To Live this Life
by Fairlane
Summary: The wild and crazy life of Tim Shepard , rated R13 for some violence and language. Completed.
1. Bitten

Bitten

Funny how things come back to haunt you.

That's something I should have figured out earlier, sooner or later, everything comes back around to bite you. I stood alone on the street watching the car approach, a black Lincoln Continental.

I had been in a stolen Mustang moments earlier, but had to drive down a side street and ditch when the fuzz got on my tail. I'd cut through a couple of alleys and come out in Tulsa's equivalent of no mans land. Didn't expect to see any of my boys, but didn't expect to see no soc's either. Just my luck they were cruising through.

I knew that car, it belonged to Will McIntyre. With Bob dead and Randy marked a gutless punk, he was the new king of the high and mighty goddamn soc's. I'd introduced my fist to his face a couple of weeks back when I ran into him at the drive in.

I slid my hand in my back pocket and pulled out my switchblade as Will hauled on the handbrake and swung the Lincoln round to a tire smoking stop beside me. You could tell he didn't have to work to pay for them; he'd probably just ripped an inch of tread off.

I stood facing the car in a casual slouch, waiting for them to come. I could have run and probably lost them by cutting through a building, but when you got a rep like me you don't run and hide. I wasn't going to loose it for the likes of spoilt little punks who think the world was put here for them alone. I'd worked too hard for it.

It ain't like someone comes up and hands you a rep on a plate, says "here take it, it's for free."

"Look at this, if it ain't Timmy all on his lonesome!" Will crowed in delight at me.

I swear to God, I hate being called Timmy.

Will got out the car and his friends followed. They all slammed their doors with exaggerated slowness and turned toward me. I grinned at the four of them.

"I like these odds".

"Awww, not as much as we do Timmy" Will said gently, walking towards me.

You know if Will had have been born on my side of town instead of the other he'd probably be my best buddy, not my enemy.

I saw they were planning on surrounding me and giving me a real jumping.

Although I didn't move, a kind of thrilled fear ran through my body.

I could see myself in their eyes, standing under the sun, still and ready.

It is moments like these when I wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the world. No one I would rather be than Tim Sheppard, standing on the street with violence all around me.

I took a step forward and held my blade so they could see it.

"I'll take all you little fuckers one by one," I snarled. "Line up!"

That stopped 'em for a sec', but only a second.

To us greasers it was unwritten law you don't wimp out when you've been challenged to a fair one on one fight, but I knew they wouldn't see it so clear. I guess when you got a rep for fancy cars, wealth, and privilege, a rep for being tough don't matter so much. For me, it's all I have.

"Reckon we gonna mess you up?" Will asked, sounding casual.

I spat at the ground.

"Guess you a little scared to take me on again, need some help huh?"

"Oh, you gonna need some fucking help Tim, you gonna need intensive care" one of the soc's taunted.

"Hey, you know what?" another piped up. "Tim's family's so poor, when burglars came to rob them they left donations!"

I really couldn't think of anything to say to that, I just tightened my fingers on my switchblade as the others all laughed.

"And another time vandals broke in," continued the clown, "and they caused $500 worth of improvements."

I never could understand why they were so proud of being rich. They was just born that way is all, it ain't like they did anything to deserve it.

"What you been reading buddy, 101 Funniest Jokes book?"

"Yeah, and guess what Tim, you was on the front page!" he screeched, giving a high whoop of laughter.

When I lose my cool, everything becomes real clear, but distant, like watching a movie.

I could see the sun glinting off my blade and the shadows of buildings falling over the street. I could see the white, white teeth of the soc' as he laughed at me, the white of his shirt, the blue blood of his veins.

I grabbed his shoulder and thrust my knife up into his chest, tearing through his shirt and up into his ribs before yanking it back out. He kept laughing for a second, and then he realized what had just happened and made a choked screaming sound.

His friends were hauling me off him, but I held his eyes and had the satisfaction of watching the laughter drain away with his blood.

"You crazy fucking bastard!" Will shouted near my ear, sounding like he was having the time of his life.

Yeah, if one of has had chanced a different birthplace, we would be buddies.

They were trying to push me to the ground, but I knew if I didn't stay on my feet I was done for. I gripped my blade, having a kind of nightmare image of one of them using it on me.

Tim Shepard killed by his own blade, now that would be some kind of way to go down in greaser history.

Something connected against the side of my head, as soft and gentle as say, a sledgehammer would be. I staggered and fell as the pain exploded in my head.

"Aww fuck" I muttered, still holding my blade in a death grip, gritting my teeth as the pain rolled down to my stomach.

"Shit Timmy, it ain't looking good" sighed Will. I could see a hazy outline of him, standing before me shaking his head.

"You son a bitch" I hissed, staggering to my feet.

He came for me and I tried to block his swinging fists, wondering vaguely if he really had four arms or it was just my vision. I guess it was just me, because he got me right in the jaw.

Another one kicked me, and it started some kind of chain reaction, next instant they were all swinging there real leather shoes into me.

I kept trying to get up, that was all I could do, since I wasn't going to just lay down and give up. And every time they would punch or kick me back down.

The sky looked red and hazy through the blur of dark bodies surrounding me, and I realized that I was going to die, and that I wasn't afraid to die.

The soc's had gone silent, not laughing anymore, and the only sound was theirs and my own gasping breaths, the soft thud of their shoes.

There was another sound too, a car engine gunning high, coming closer and closer, closer and closer…

"Christ watch out!" I heard Will shout.

Closer and closer…the kicks falling away…the hot scream of brakes, the skidding of tires.

Of all the fucking luck; I was about to be run over.

There was a blinding light in my eyes, I couldn't see.

"You better get the fuck outta here!"

I groaned and rolled onto my side, wondering if that was the voice of God. But I could feel gravel against my cheek, surely heaven wasn't tar sealed?

"Yeah I mean it, I won't give you another chance."

The voice came again, and it sounded vaguely familiar.

"You alright Tim?" came another voice from above me.

The light was still in my eyes, and I was trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

"What the fuck…?" I sat up and felt the pulsing confused world I was in slide away completely.


	2. Saviour

A/N: I meant to leave this on the first chapter but this is my first attempt on fan fic and I havn't quite figured it out... so apologies for the bad layout. I notice most storys are about the Curtis boys, while this story is about Tim and his brother, so don't know if it people will be interested?? If you enjoy it let me know as I have the whole story planned, if not please be honest, I can handle criticism!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

"Tim, Tim, come on buddy."

I could actually feel myself rising up through the blackness, back into consciousness. When did, I kinda wished I had stayed down in the dark.

Every muscle, every bone, every nerve and vein in my body ached and throbbed.I never wanted to move again.

I slit my eyes against the sun and looked at Darry's face, close to mine.

"Curtis, you run me over, you motherfuck?"

"Nah man" Darry said, grinning a little. Hell, I wasn't joking.

"Me and Soda was coming home from work and saw you. I just drove at 'em, fasted way I could think of getting 'em off you."

"How many you get?" I asked hopefully.

Darry just looked at me, I guess not knowing if I was serious.

"No point" I heard Soda pipe up. "Soc's are only worth five points a piece."

"Can you get up, we should get outta here" said Darry, standing up himself.

"Yeah, sure." I forced my eyes open properly and tried to sit up.

I have never hurt like that in my life.

Darry and Soda were watching me with serious faces, and they swirled in and out of focus before me.

I put my head on my knees for a second and tried to get it together.

"Got a cigarette?" I asked them, not looking up.

I was actually glad it was the Curtis boys who found me and not my gang, I didn't have to keep on being the toughest hood in Tulsa in front of Darry and Soda.

Their good guys and their tough, but they sure ain't no hoods.

"Nah. Look lets get out of here" repeated Darry. "You don't want the fuzz to show."

"Aww Hell." I looked around for the kid I had stabbed.

I hadn't intended on hurting him too bad, but soc's just don't seem to be as tough as greasers.

I couldn't see a body, just dark patches of blood on the ground. I guess his mates must have taken him with them. I figured he wasn't dead, just wounded. I've seen people hurt plenty worse than that and survive.

Darry's Ford was stopped at a crazy angle across the street, and there was no sign of any of the soc's. Just the black rubber Will had lain when he stopped for me.

I glanced down and was kinda amused to see I was still hanging onto my knife. I grabbed the hand Darry offered and he hauled me up and helped me to into the car.

"D'ya reckon ya oughta go the hospital Tim?" Darry asked.

"Nah man, just drop me round my house would ya?"

All I really wanted to do was lay down, and lay very, very still. I could plan revenge while I was lying there.

Darry swung hard round a corner and I bit back a wince.

"Hey Darry, just swing by the drugstore would ya?"

Ten minutes later we pulled up in front of the drug store on our side of town.

I looked out at the roughneck slouching kids on the street, two collarless dogs fighting over scraps from an overturned rubbish bin, the cracked and lifting pavement the county never bothered to repair. I felt better already, being in the only place I ever really wanted to be.

This was my 'hood, my streets, my kids, my dogs even. And I loved 'em all, this is where I belong.

"I'll grab it, what ya want?" Soda asked, turning to me.

"Painkillers, whatever they got."

Then I grinned and added "If they don't got none, a bottle of whiskey."

It was getting hard to live up to my rep, curled in pain in the backseat. I chucked Soda a tenner and he headed off.

I tried to straighten and sat back, watching Darry holding the steering wheel and gazing out the window.

"Tim," he said after a minute.

I watched his eyes lift to look at me in the rearview mirror.

"Don't start another war" he told me flatly.

Much as I don't take to people telling me what to do, I just sat in silence and stared back at him for a moment.

I didn't fight my way to the top of a tough neighborhood without self control. I find the people who shout and yell get a lot of attention at first, but it lose the effect real fast. Once you seen someone at their worst, you know what their capable of.

It's the not knowing that scares people more.

"There's no war" I told him calmly. "This is between me and Will, and there ain't no reason for it to be otherwise."

Darry shook his head slightly.

"It's never that simple with them, they don't let up and you know it. We beat 'em good before Dally died, but it ain't stopped 'em coming back around."

"That's cos they ain't used to not winning at anything, they don't know their beat. Dunno what the fuck you're expecting me to do about it."

If the soc's didn't keep coming around, as Darry put it, I'd only have other greasers to fight. It's crazy getting jumped and nearly killed for just walking the streets, but it's that danger that makes me feel most alive.

"I know ya can't just let it go…" Darry began.

"Not a fucking chance."

"I got my brothers to think about."

"I got a brother too."

"I know, and people have been killed. It ain't just kids playing."

"It never was."

"Killed for what side of the river they live on." Darry made a spitting sound.

He was right it was crazy, this life is crazy, but I was born to be a hood.

I love it and he hates it, and that's what makes me a hood and him a greaser.


	3. Homecoming

Darry turned into my street and suddenly slammed on the brakes.

"Tim, look ahead."

I sat forward and looked out the windscreen. Two police cars were parked at the other end of the street, outside my house.

I considered the possibility they were there looking for my brother, but I couldn't imagine they would send two cars out just for him, unless he had graduated to some more serious crimes since this morning. Even though he tries not to be, Curly is a pretty good kid.

"What'd you wanna do?" Darry asked me.

"Uh, get outta here for now."

I kept my head low in case of any passing cops as Darry headed back for his own house, and figured I might have to just keep it low for a couple of days, no doubt this would blow over soon enough.

We pulled up outside the Curtis boy's house and headed in. Soda tried to take my arm to help me inside and I shrugged him off.

I was hoping not to have to deal with a whole crowd of people right then, and was relieved just their little brother Ponyboy was there. Although I guess there gang was a lot smaller anyhow these days.

Ponyboy looked up from the TV with wide eyes.

"Hey Tim, you okay?"

"Yeah, got in a fight with my missus" I joked, and he smiled.

I've hardly spoken to the kid before, he's quiet as hell, but I guess he must be tough enough after what went down with him and Johnny. And Curlys always said good things about him, although Curlys a lousy judge of character so that ain't saying much. He sees the best in everyone, probably even thinks that soc's are okay once you get to know them.

Ponyboy reminds me of him a little in that way, both of them too good at heart to be hoods. The difference is that Curly never had Ponyboy's chance, he's never had the chance to be nothing else.

I sat on the sofa and Darry brought me over a cloth and some ice.

"You done ya homework Pony?" he asked.

"Yeah" he said, not taking his eyes off the TV.

Curly had said he was real smart, I guess he had some bright future as a lawyer or accountant or whatever.

I had never wanted that sort of life, not for a moment. All I had ever wanted to be was the toughest hood on this side of town. And Curly always seemed to feel he had to live up to me.

"You know Tim," he'd said once. "Me and you could run this whole side of town if we wanted to."

"Kid, I already run this side of town" I'd told him, and felt a deep ache inside, the old, strange guilt my little brother always made me feel.

I killed twenty minutes or so having a couple of beers and watching TV with Ponyboy and Soda before phoning home. I figured I better give the cops plenty of time to leave.

"Yeah" drawled Curly's voice.

"That's what all the girls say."

He laughed briefly. "Hey Tim, where are ya?"

"Not in jail, what the fuzz want?"

"Uh," Curly hesitated. "They was looking for you, you get in a fight?"

"Yeah, with the usual arseholes. What they say?"

"You put a kid in hospital, split his guts."

No one else would have recognized the fear beneath the pride in his tone.

"Shit, he'll live. I'm gonna sit tight in case they come back looking for me, I'll see you later."

"Okay Tim" Curly said calmly, and I could picture him standing at the kitchen bench with the phone to his ear, as clearly as I could picture him as the terrified six year old clinging to my shirt.

I figured Darry wouldn't mind me staying, and if he did, well he wasn't gonna tell me that was he.

"Which soc's was it?" Ponyboy asked, leaning back on the sofa and staring at me with still, deep eyes.

"Pony it ain't nothing to do with you" Darry snapped before I could reply.

Ponyboy didn't look fazed by the sharp tone, he was obviously pretty used to it.

"Will McIntrye."

"He's an arsehole."

I felt a moments pity for Darry as he glared at his brother with a look of helpless anger.

"Just stay out of it." he said, his voice hard.

I guess he didn't want the kid getting mixed up in anymore trouble like him and Johnny had gotten into.

"It's just some shit between me and Will" I told Pony.

I wasn't exactly lying, it's just that he was a soc and I'm a greaser, and in this town that means it could never be just between the two of us.

"Yeah, sure" said Ponyboy, not bothering to hide his disbelief.

Well he didn't have to be an A student to guess that one.

I awoke on the sofa with the worst headache of my life. I figured I must have a concussion from getting whacked in the head the day before.

"Pony, Soda, get up!" I heard Darry yelling.

I sat up as he came into the lounge.

"Morning Tim, you want some breakfast?"

I shook my head briefly, my stomach turning just at the mention of food.

Darry opened the front door and grabbed the morning paper off the porch. Soda came wandering in half dressed and yelling over his shoulder.

"Tell her I said so!"

"Yeah whatever!" Pony yelled back.

I cringed. Did they have to be so goddamn loud? Their house was small for Christ's sake, it wasn't like they couldn't hear each other.

"Take a look" Darry said, tossing the paper in my lap.

I had made the front page.

"**Local Boy Brutally Stabbed"**

There was a photo of the street where the fight had taken place, with a police cordon around it. I scanned the article for any mention of my name. No fame there. A few lines stood out.

'…attack on a defenseless boy…'

'…Robert Carey is in a critical condition in hospital…'

'…police are seeking an eighteen year old…'

Although I was not named, clearly the fuzz were on to me. I thought of the ten pounds I had coming via Texas way, due to arrive tomorrow. Some arrangement would have to be made, this was no time to be moving a load of marijuana.

"Hey ya'll" Soda's mate Steve slammed through the front door, making me wince again.

He stopped and grinned at me.

"Look, its Tulsa's most wanted!"

He nodded toward the paper.

"It is you, right?"

"What makes you say that?"

"I was working late last night and the cops come in, wanted to know if I'd seen ya."

He flopped down on the couch, looking pleased to be the bearer of bad news.

"Then when I was driving home Will pulled up next to me at the lights, said if his buddy dies he's gonna come after you and yours"

"Fuck he ain't gonna die, the little sissy."

You and yours. I thought of Curly, home alone.

"Darry could ya drop me home on your way to work?"

Darry pulled up outside my house 30 minutes later.

"Tim, what are you gonna do?" he asked me.

I opened my door and scanned the street for undercovers. An undercover stands out like… well, like a cop.

"If they want me, let 'em come get me" I said, getting out the car.

I made my way up the four flights of stairs to my apartment. There is a lift, it's just never in working order. I guess it ain't much, but it's what I always wanted, a place of my own.

I was ten when my parents died, and me and Curly spent the next seven years in state care being passed from house to house, like we were the broken shit that nobody wants and is always trying to offload on their neighbor.

Curly jumped up from the TV when I came in.

"Goddamn, Tim!"

I guess he don't remember seeing me this beat up before, I was eight last time it happened.

"Yeah yeah." I brushed past him and made for the bathroom. "Just chill out would ya buddy?"

I hate people making a fuss over me.

After a shower and a change of clothes I went back out to the lounge.

"Whats going on then?" I asked Curly, grabbing a beer from the fridge and sitting down.

"Wade came by last night looking for you. He said there's carloads of soc's out just driving around. Everyone's just waiting ya know, getting prepared. Me too."

He nodded his head at a wheel brace propped against the front door.

"Waiting for what?"

I motioned Curly to pass me a cigarette.

"For that kid to die."

"What?" I grinned. "Hell Curly a little cut never killed nobody, shit me and you both been hurt worse than that."

Curly bit his lip and looked at me doubtfully.

"On the news it said…"

"Aw fuck the news! You believe in everything you hear do ya?"

He glared at me with sullen hurt.

"That's what the doctor said, on the news. You a doctor, Tim?"

I dragged heavily on my cigarette and gazed up at the ceiling, away from Curly. It wouldn't be fair to hit the kid, but he seemed to be working on my last nerve.

I just wished everyone would quit reminding me of that goddamn soc. He got what he deserved, and that's a rare thing in this world.

There was a sudden pounding against the door that shook it on its hinges.

Police, we have a warrant!"

A/N: ThanksDragan & Nikechick for reviewing! Sorry it took so long to update, busy time of year :)


	4. Cruising

My heart was instantly pounding fast in my throat as I glanced around for an exit. The only option was the fire escape. I saw brief terror on Curly's face before he disguised it with a twisted grin.

He got up and looked through the peephole, then made a strangled sounding laugh and looked back at me, desperate relief in his eyes.

"Shit it's only Wade!"

I sat back down and made myself look calmreal fastas Curly opened the door and Wade came in, grinning at me.

"Thought you'd be jumping out a window already!"

"Lucky for you I wasn't shooting already arsehole."

Me and Wade grew up together, right next door to each other. It was his house I ran to the night my parents died, blood on my hands and crying for the only time that I can remember.

"So what happened?"

I retold the story of the fight, exaggerating only a little bit. I couldn't really be expected to cover myself in glory fighting one on four anyway. Wade could see how I came off clear enough, he was sitting right next to me. Least I managed to hospitalize one of them, more than they had done to me.

"What are you gonna do Tim?" Curly asked.

He was sitting backwards on a kitchen chair, cigarette in his mouth, looking cool and distant, like he didn't care. I knew better, but he was a tough kid and always put on a good act. Especially in front of me.

"Just lay low a few days. Once that soc is outta hospital this'll all blow over."

"I reckon" Wade agreed. "But you should find somewhere else to lay low."

"Yeah, the fuzz'll be back, I know."

We spent a couple of minutes hanging around the windows scanning for cops.

"All clear" I announced. "Lets get the fuck outta here."

Curly shot me a hesitant look.

"Come on." I punched his shoulder. "You're coming, if the fuzz catch us I'm using you as a human shield."

"Hell the cops would jump on the chance to shoot me!"

I laughed and pushed him out the door after Wade. He always waited 'till he's invited before coming out with me, like he don't know if I want him along.

I guess if I was a counselor I'd say he has a low self esteem, but since I'm his big brother I just say he has the proper amount of respect.

"It's pretty crazy round town" Wade said as we set off in his car.

"When ain't it?" I replied, looking out the window, interested to see what was so crazy.

Wade's car was tinted out so I didn't have to worry about no fuzz looking in the window and seeing me at least.

Usually when me and Wade were cruising the streets we'd be going real slow with the windows down, so every hood and greaser and low born thug could see me and know I was there, watching over them.

So they could feel protected, yeah I guess. 'Cause what's a hero if he don't make you feel at least a little safer?

But mostly so that they understood I knew everything that went on in the streets and in the alleys, behind fences and behind doors. I knew everyone who stepped on my turf.

To stay on top, you always gotta be one step ahead of everybody else.

Today we had all the windows up, but people were still recognizing Wade's car and yelling out, thrusting fists up.Same groups of rag tag hoods and greasers they ever were, but there was something a little different about them too.

"Everybody's waiting" Curly had said.

I understood what he meant, the guys on the street looked tense and impatient, they looked ready.There were half concealed weapons on show, baseball bats, pipes, chains, wheel braces.

"Hey Sam!" I heard Curlycall from the back seat.

I turned to see himleaning out hiswindow waving out to all his mates.

"Fucks sake Curly!"

I reached back and belted him round the ear.

"You gonna wave out to the fuzz too huh? You stupid damn kid."

He slumped back in his seat and wound the window up.

"It was only my friends Tim" he muttered, giving me an angry stare, his eyes as dark as his grease slicked hair.

"I don't care. You think if the fuzz see you in the car they ain't gonna put two an' two together huh?"

Curly dropped his gaze and shrugged roughly.

The kid just wasn't like me, he couldn't think ahead. It wasn't his fault.

"Just be cool, okay?"

"Yeah."

I turned back to the front, feeling the hard knot of guilt in my chest. The only person who can make me lose my temper that fast is Curly, which is pretty weird considering he's the only person I really give a fuck about.

"Tim, what about them pounds?" Wade said. "If the fuzz are looking for you they're gonna be keeping an eye on me too."

"Yeah…" I trailed off, considering.

There was serious money to be made here, and serious jail time to be done if we were busted.

I figured at this time our best option was to move it as fast as we could onto one or two buyers, take a bit of a cut in profit but at least the whole thing could be done and dusted in a day.

"I reckon the Vipers would take the lot" I told Wade.

"That biker gang?" Curly asked.

I felt kind of bad talking about this in front of him, even though I guess it ain't nothing he don't know already. It's the life he was born to.

"Yeah them, even though it ain't nothing to do with you" I said.

"Less money." Wade pointed out the obvious.

"And if we get busted we lose the fucking lot."

"Yeah, I know. Do whatever you think is cool."

Like I needed his goddamn permission.

Even though Wade is probably the only real friend I have, I know he never forgets the fact that if I was gone he'd be number one tough guy in these parts.

If I did get busted, I couldn't count on Curly to step up and hold my place. If you're gonna lead people, you gotta be able to take them some place they wanna go.

"Lunchtime" Wade announced, swinging into Dairy Queen.

Twenty minutes later we were done with lunch and back on the street.

"We gonna do the pick up tomorrow." I got back to the business at hand.

"Yeah, we can borrow Buck's ride."

"Not that fucking T-Bird?"

"Nah, his brothers Chevy truck."

That sounded good, something that wasn't ours and wouldn't stand out. The whole thing bugged me though, I almost wished we weren't doing it.

I turned again in my seat to look back at Curly. He was smoking and gazing out the window, his face blank and unreadable.

I caught his eye and he gave me a little smile.

"Don't you go getting no ideas" I told him.

He looked at me, confused.

"I better not hear you been going around telling your fucking buddies you can get 'em dope, got it?"

"What'd I do that for anyhow Tim?" he retorted sharply.

I guess I'd offended him or something, 'cause he don't normally get snappy with me.

He'd slit his throat before he'd betray me, I know that. It's just that he don't always think before he speaks. Actually I reckon he don't ever think before he speaks.

"Where to?" Wade asked, turning to look at me.

I glanced at the time, only 1pm. This hiding from the fuzz was getting old fast, I couldn't go to any of my usual hangouts, including my own house, 'cause those are the places they'd come looking for me.

If Robert Casey was a greaser, the warrant would have been thrown in the bottom draw already. But he was a soc, and I had no doubt his parents had deep enough pockets to keep the cops on my back.

We killed the afternoon over at Buck's playing pool and having a few beers. There was only one entrance to the building and we had a clear view of the street, so I had time to boot it upstairs and down the fire escape it needs be.

I guess I had a few too many drinks for a concussion, because by late afternoon I was using the bar to prop myself up.

"Tim, it's that soc again."

Curly came and leant next to me and nodded his head at the TV above the bar, where Robert Casey's school photo filled the screen.

"Buck, turn the TV up" Curly ordered.

Buck flipped the jukebox off and a second later the TV blared into the silent bar.

Now it was a cop who filled the screen.

"…best for you if you turn yourself in, we know who you are and you will be caught."

The cop's larger than life face stared down at me, his eyes holding mine. Curly smirked beside me and elbowed me in the ribs.

"You will be caught Tim" he hissed, trying to imitate the cops voice.

The cops face disappeared abruptly and a reporter took his place.

"Thank you Officer Banks. As you have just heard, Robert Casey died this afternoon in intensive care at Tulsa Hospital."

A/N: Thanks everyone who has reviewed!

A few replies…

Foxfyre33 – Thanks for the detailed review, it is really great to hear what people are enjoying in the story and what they think is working. I am trying to go into a bit of depth on Tim as I always thought he was the most interesting character in the book! And thanks for the tip on reviews.

MamaCes – Thanks for reviewing! To answer you question about Angela Sheppard, I am writing Tim and Curly as they appeared in the Outsiders, and she didn't show up in that story, so is not in mine. I guess not everyone will agree, but hopefully no one will mind too much :) I find the story easier to write without her, hopefully you will see why later on. I am from New Zealand (the small country at the bottom of the world) so hope I am not making too many mistakes with the American slang, culture, way of life etc. Feel free to correct me if I do!

Starbryte234 – I guess this chapter answers your question about Tim hitting Curly! Sorry I forgot to mention their ages, this is meant to take place straight after the book finished, so as in the book Tim is 18 and Curly is 15.


	5. Dark Night

Dead?

How could that happen?

That had to be some kind of joke, the cops just trying to scare me. Nobody dies from a little cut, not even soc's.

That moment was suddenly clear in my mind again, my knife going up into his chest. I didn't want to remember how mad I had been, how fast I had thrust. It took more than that to kill people, it took more, and then an older memory was in my mind, the knife falling again and again…

I grabbed for my glass of whisky, missed, knocked it clean off the bar.

Curly, Wade and Buck had all been staring at the t.v screen still, and jumped when it smashed into the silence.

"Shit" Curly breathed out, his voice hushed.

I looked down at the shattered glass and pooling whisky beneath my chair. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, Curly fumbling with his cigarettes, Buck getting another glass out, dropping ice into it, reaching for the top shelf.

"_Hurry the fuck up"_ I wanted to yell at him, but it seemed like it would take me too long to say.

I felt like I needed to wake up.

"Here Tim" Curly said, his voice so gentle I wanted to put his teeth through his lip. I turned to see him holding a cigarette out to me.

His face was hard and calm, but his hand was shaking slightly as I took the smoke off him.

"Good going Tim. It's on me buddy."

Buck passed me the glass of whisky.

"_Good going kid" _I had said to Ponyboy the night of the last big rumble, the night Dallas and Johnny died.

It was always good when soc's got killed, no doubt. Good when other people did it. For all my bad rep, I had never gone that far myself before. I had never wanted to be my father.

"Tim, you oughta get outta town" Curly said, twisting around to scan the windows urgently. "The cops'll be everywhere."

I threw back the whisky and shoved the glass toward Buck for another before speaking.

"I ain't going nowhere. Damn it sure don't take a lot to kill a soc', fucking soft little bastards."

I couldn't get my head around the fact it had happened. How could it be so easy, I could kill someone without even meaning to? But I guess I should have known how hard a person's life is to hold on to.

I glanced at my little brother, who was beside me swilling back his own drink.

He turned and for a second I held his gaze, then turned away again.

I don't look into his eyes too often, it's like being drawn into a whirlpool. The pull toward that still, deep sadness in the centre of him.

I know people see his long, blank stares and think he's dumb, but it's just the unformed part of him, the memories locked away. The part of him that's forever the six year old child who watched his parents die.

"So, that's two soc's down, how many we got left?" Curly joked.

He grinned at me, his face hollowed in shadow under the dim lights of the bar.

Sometimes I can hardly believe he's only three years younger than me, it feels like a lifetime.

"Hey you ain't a killer, you're a fucking hero" Wade said to me, leaning across the bar to knock his glass against mine.

A killer and a hero. Neither was something I had ever wanted to be, but somehow it came with the territory of what I did want to be, the toughest hood in town.

"Look," Wade said, slurring his words a little. "Fuzz ain't gonna forget this anytime soon. We should get outta here, get down below."

All I wanted to do was stay right where I was and drink myself into the ground.

"Fuck 'em, let them come."

"Nah, Wades right" Curly said, a hint of desperation in his voice. "They know you gonna be hanging out here."

There were right, the cops would be coming here.

And if I did get picked up, what then?

This wasn't something I was going to get out of with thirty days in jail. A greaser killing a soc? They'd bury me in the fucking cell.

But that didn't seem like something that could ever happen. Despite what I'd seen on the news, I couldn't believe that kid was dead. Not really.

I leaned back in my chair a little and looked out the front window. It was dark outside, I could only see the orange glow of street lamps.

"You're gonna have to watch it Tim" Buck said, coming around the bar to mop up the drink I'd spilt.

"Greaser kills a soc' in the town…" He hissed through his teeth and shook his head.

"You could clear out of town, go to California or something" Wade suggested.

"You could disguise yourself" Curly said.

"As what, a fucking soc?" I asked him.

"Or skip right out, clear the border to Mexico…"

"Nah, like grow a moustache or some shit like that" Curly continued, ignoring Wade.

"It's a death penalty state remember, although you could plead insanity…" Buck's voice drifted up from beneath my chair where he was picking up shards of glass.

In their voices I could hear the same strange mix of terror and adrenalin I felt inside myself, and for a second I thought I was gonna pass out right at the bar.

"Fuck this!" I slammed my fist down on the bar, bringing them to a hush. "I ain't going to Mexico, I ain't growing no moustache, and I sure as hell ain't going to the fucking nuthouse!"

I directed the last at Buck, and swung my boot into his ribs to make sure he understood.

"So now, anyone got a halfway decent plan come and see me. Until then, shut the hell up and let's get outta here."

The three of them were all watching me in wary silence. I don't loose my temper too often (except with Curly), and when I do people pay attention.

"Okay, you wanna cruise now?" Wade asked, his tone appeasing.

"Yeah." I glanced out at the night again. "I reckon we should."

Wade pulled his keys out his pocket and promptly dropped them.

"Fuck it" he muttered, scrambling under the bar for them.

"You boys alright to drive now?" Buck asked, like he wasn't the one that just served us all the drinks.

"I drive better when I'm drunk" Wade said confidently, back on his feet.

"Well you take care. You too, this ain't no joke Tim."

"I can handle it" I said coolly to Buck, sliding down from my seat. I don't take no advice from bartenders, that's for sure.

"Where we gonna Tim?" Curly asked, falling into step with me as we left the bar.

I felt a sudden surge of tenderness for him, tight, hard love that I couldn't breathe around. That kid would follow me anywhere, to the ends of the earth, without hesitation.

"I dunno, just find a place to crash for now. I'm too drunk to figure this shit out right now."

The night outside was warm and petrol scented, our shadows stretched long and dark ahead of us as we crossed the parking lot. I looked around carefully, feeling abruptly sober and aware, like I was walking through a war zone or something.

"Where can we stay?" Curly asked.

I swung my fist in an arc, the air around me felt charged and vital, like something you could cut through.

"Come on" hissed Wade, unlocking his car with an unsteady hand.

Driving through the streets, I felt my mood getting higher and higher. I knew I should be terrified, or full of regret, but I just felt tense and pumped up.

Wade headed back for the East side, skirting round the busy part of town where cops were more likely to be.

"I guess we can't go anywhere they expect you to go" Wade said.

"Nah."

I leaned my head against the window, my good mood starting to sink as fast as it had risen.

Where was I gonna go? I couldn't spend the rest of my life slinking round Tulsa at night, hiding out at people's houses.

"How 'bout Julia's house?" Curly suggested a teasing note in his voice.

Julia was my most recent ex-girlfriend, and the daughter of a local police officer.

Wade laughed and yanked on the wheel, suddenly realizing he was headed for the gutter.

"I reckon that sure is the last place they'd expect you to be."

I wound my window down a crack to get some fresh air, I could feel all those whiskys rolling around in my stomach.

"I guess I should have stuck with her huh, maybe she could help me out."

"Maybe she will anyway" Curly said. He didn't know anything about girls.

"Sure she will, girls always wanna help you out after you cheat on 'em."

I didn't much like talking about Julia, even though I'd never admit that to anyone. I had really liked her, more than any other girl I had been with.

My other girlfriends had all been so in love with me it was crazy, I could have done anything under the sun to them and they would have let me.  
But with Julia, I could never figure out if she actually liked me or just went with me to piss off her father and shock her middle class friends.  
I guess when I cheated on her I was kind of testing her. She failed, or passed depending on how you look at it, and dumped me.

"We could go stay with Pony and Soda" Curly said. "They always got people staying over there anyway."

"With who?" Wade asked, sounding amused by the names.

The fact my closest buddy didn't even know who they were made me think Curly had the right idea, it wasn't likely the fuzz would think to look for me there.

"You know Darrel Curtis?" I reminded Wade. "Big guy, started off the action at the rumble last month?"

"Yeah I remember that guy, good fighter."

"That's his little brothers."

"Ya think they would want tougher sounding nicknames."

"I think thoseare their real names man."

"They are," Curly confirmed. "Pony says it even has it on their birth certificates."

"Now that's fucking weird."

"Hell, coming from someone called Wade," Curly said dryly, "was it raining the day you was born or something?"

"Coming from someone called Curly…"

"Yeah, come on boys" I interrupted, not in the mood for their shit. "Lets all just agree, I'm the only one with a normal name."

"Maybe that makes you the weird one" Curly shot back.

I turned and swung a fist at him half heartedly, he ducked and grinned.

"Save that, we gonna need it just now" Wade said, a warning note in his voice. "We got trouble ahead."

A/N: I'm not too good at updating huh…!

Actually I had a hard time deciding what direction to take the story in, as I have three possible endings and I was trying to make up my mind which one to go for.I'm not real happy with this chapter, it's kind of a filler, but decided to post anyway as I needed to move the story along. So feel free to tell me if it sucked!

Trine: I'm really glad you think it's realistic and Tim and Curly aren't out of character. I don't want to make Tim just some mindless thug, but don't want to make him too soft or anything either. It's kind of hard to find a balance!

NittanyLizard: Thanks for the American terms. Actually I keep accidentally dropping in heaps of New Zealand slang, and have to go back and edit it all out! Also trying not to use modern day slang, I just realized I have Ponyboy saying "whatever" at one point which is probably not what they said…

Foxfyre33: I didn't know about having Tim feel guilty I almost took it out, but in the end figured he does love his little brother so it's only natural he would feel bad about it, no matter how much of a hood he is.

Kate: What now? Wish I knew:) Well that's what I've been trying to decide on, I've made up my mind now but sometimes the characters won't do what their supposed to, so it may change!

NalunaSolna: Thanks for the review, it is really encouraging to hear that people like how I am writing Tim and Curly. I found it hard to get into Tim's character, and when I posted this storythought I might get a whole bunch of flamers going what the hell are you doing? And I'm glad you agree with me about Angela, as I really didn't want to put her in. Since then I have realized it is okay to have quite a bit of "artistic license" on this site anyway!

Aurorababe: I'm glad you like Tim and Curly's relationship, as it's actually the part I enjoy writing most. I have to remind myself to put other characters in too!

Dreamerforlyf: Yeah I see what you mean! I just wanted a reason to put those jokes in because I thought they were kinda funny, so Robert Casey was the unlucky one chosen to be a smartarse.

Starbryte234: It was the cops actually, but I changed it at the last minute because I was having fun with Tim being on the run!

Streetpanther: I guess that's why we write these stories right, so we can live the greaser life in our imaginations! All of the fun and none of the bad stuff like getting beat up and going to jail.


	6. Off Road

I quit trying to thump Curly and scanned the road ahead. Parked up along the side of the street was Will's Lincoln and a couple of Mustangs. The cars of soc's.

The soc's themselves were standing around their cars showing off the size of their wallets, or whatever it is that soc's do together. I had forgotten this strip is a place where they like to bring their fancy cars to race, I had been down here to race them a few times myself.

I guess in his drunken state Wade had forgotten too. But drunk or not, I normally wouldn't let something like that slip my mind. I had to get my head together fast.

"You think I oughta turn around?"

Wade had slowed the car to nearly a stand still, he readied one hand on the handbrake and looked at me. Everyone always wanted me to tell them what to do. Sometimes I wished they would understand I didn't always know either.

The soc's were barely twenty meters ahead of us, and had already turned at the sound of the approaching car.

"You think they'll know the car?"

"Nah, Wade." I felt tired out. "They only see ya driving it every fucking day."

"Damn it Tim, what'd ya want me to do?"

"Floor it" Curly said sharply, leaning forward. "Just fucking floor it."

Wade gunned it, without hesitating.

So maybe Curlys not just a kid to everyone else. Maybe they can see something I don't, someone to be listened to.

I saw Will turn as we passed, saw recognition on his face. I knew they would follow. They would follow me like Curly did, and Wade and my gang, and the girls, and the fuzz; they would all follow me.

"We couldn't stop Tim, they outnumbered us too much" Curly spoke up suddenly.

There was an edge to his voice, like he thought he'd been outta line speaking in my place. He had been, but it was the same decision I'd have made anyway.

"Outnumbering us is the only kinda fight they like."

I looked out the rear window and saw headlights behind us. I'd expected nothing less, Will was too much like me.

Curly looked too.

"Fuck it" he said, his tone soft and resigned.

I guess he had learned already there would be no peace in this life, not for us.

"Just head back to the East side" I told Wade. They were unlikely to follow us there, seeing as they wouldn't outnumber us back on our own turf.

Wade nodded and lifted his gaze to the rearview mirror.

"Here comes the good fight" he said warily. "The bastards gonna ram us."

I turned again and could see nothing but the lights of the Lincoln.

"Shit they wouldn't…" Curly was cut off abruptly as we were slammed from behind.

I was thrown forward against the dash board, and felt Curly hit the back of my seat. I shoved myself back off the dash and looked over at Wade. He was hanging onto the steering wheel, but the tires had lost traction with the road.

I was flung upwards when the car hit the curb next, and there was a metallic crunching sound as it carried on up and over. I could do nothing but sit tight and wait for the car to slow over the rocks and scrub as it went off the side of the road.

It was just lucky we weren't in a residential area, where we likely would have been stopped by the side of a house. Wade took control of the car again, bringing it to a stop and turning it off.

"Goddamn bastards!" He slammed his fist against the steering wheel. "You okay Tim?"

"Yeah." I looked back at Curly. "Okay buddy?"

"Yeah, cool. I guess they didn't wanna take their Mustangs off road then?"

I looked around, none of the soc's were anywhere to be seen.

"Yeah, fucking pussies. That was some getaway plan." I grinned at Wade.

"Yeah, I knew they wasn't gonna wanna scratch their paint jobs!"

He laughed, then sighed and glanced out at the darkness surrounding us.

"I think I lost my muffler over the curb, and one of the tires blew."

"You gotta spare?"

He just looked at me. For Christ sake, just because he's a hood he can't chuck a spare tire in the boot?

"Let me see…" Wade turned the engine on, and the harsh sound of the V8 filled the night.

"Shit, the mufflers gone all right."

He turned the key again and silence fell.

"So this ain't the best car to go unnoticed in…" he said tactfully.

"Yeah, we'll leave it here for the night, walk to the Curtis's."

We got out the car and I let Wade get ahead a few paces and dropped back with Curly.

"Sure you okay?" I asked him.

I had noticed him holding his arm, the one he had previously broken. It had been a bad break, he had a couple of pins in the bone now.

"Yeah. Hey look."

"At what?"

"Look up."

I looked up at the sky blanketing us, stars and shit didn't interest me, I liked the night because it provided extra cover.

"Full moon, see."

"So?"

"So, cool huh?" He sounded kind of embarrassed now.

Just a little earlier I had thought maybe he was growing up, now I thought maybe he never would. Maybe he would always be a kid to make up for me never having been one.

"Look where ya walk and you'll do better" I said as he stumbled.

He didn't reply, and I felt like an asshole.

My dad once told me I didn't know how to dream.

"But I do, son," he'd said, giving me a slow smile. "I dream of everything in the world, another life."

And look where that got him. But at the time I had just said "I guess if I was banging up I'd see shit too."

"Don't ever, Timmy" he'd said, lowering his eyes to his scarred arms. "It's a bad kind of love."

I hadn't needed him to tell me that. If Curly ever touches that shit, it'll take the doctors a month to pin all his bones back together after I've dealt to him.

"Fuzz! Hit the ground!" Wade yelled suddenly.

The words weren't out his mouth before the three of us were on our stomachs in the low bushes of someone's front yard.

The lights of the police cruiser swept past us. I raised my head a little to watch them carry on down the road and turn off down a side street. I wondered if they were looking for me, and thought again of the boy who was now dead.

I could feel the dampness of the ground through my tee shirt, and smell the sharp scent of the plants I was lying amongst, feel my heartbeat slowing again as the police disappeared from view.

Was this what the rest of my life would be like now?

"Clear now?" Curly asked, pulling himself to his knees. He was holding his arm awkwardly to his chest.

"This house much further?" Wade asked, getting up too.

"Not much."

I wasn't real sure, I was used to driving everywhere. But I didn't want Wade deciding to hotwire a car, I had enough trouble already.

"Those fucking soc's" Curly said. "I'm gonna take a baseball bat to their cars tomorrow night."

"You won't do nothing" I said, more quickly than I meant to.

Both of them knew well enough to keep their mouths shut, but their thoughts were almost loud enough to hear.

They thought I was scared.

Hell not for myself I wasn't, I ain't scared of nothing. Even so. _You and yours_ Will had said, and someone like him don't kid around.

How could I explain that to Curly, that Wade would hurt him because it was the only way he could really hurt me? Tough hoods don't go round telling their little brothers that they love them.

"They was coming for me, and I'm going after them. I don't need you to go fighting no battles for me, kid."

I emphasized the last part, and ignored the hurt, angry shrug of his shoulders. He hates it when I treat him like a kid, but what he likes ain't my concern anyway. Keeping him safe is.

We arrived at the Curtis's house to find it in darkness.

"Maybe they all asleep" Curly said.

"Fuck it ain't late is it?"

I shrugged. It ain't like none of us wore watches, I only paid any mind to the time when I was at work.

"They always leave the door unlocked anyway" I said.

I strolled up to the house and let myself in, making out like it was something I did every other day. Well it was almost getting to be a habit I guess, this would make it the third time I had stayed here.

The room was in darkness and I stood in the doorway feeling around for a light switch. Curly pushed past me and went in, a second later there was a thump and his pained yell.

"Aw shit!"

"Damn it keep it down Curly" I told him, locating the light finally.

Curly was bent over rubbing his knee with one hand, his other arm held carefully still. Despite my annoyance I felt a bit of sympathy for him.

"Ain't our night is it?" I asked him rhetorically, resting my hand on his shoulder for a second as I went past him to the kitchen.

I got a glass of water and was standing at the sink drinking when I heard Darry's voice.

"Hey guys, how are ya?"

I went back through to the lounge.

"Hey Darry"

"Tim, how's it going?"

He didn't look exactly thrilled to have three hoods standing in his house at whatever hour of the night it was.

"Did we wake ya up man?"

"Nah, I was just having a shower" he said.

"Our car's broken down round the corner, so we was just gonna stay here if that's cool?"

I was only saying it to be polite, I planned on staying whether it was cool or not.

"Yeah, that's okay. There's a spare bed in Soda's old room one of you can take. I'll see ya'll later, I gotta work in the morning."

He went off back down the hallway.

That reminded me so did I, but it didn't look likely now. I wasn't too worried anyway, I'd have plenty of money tomorrow, after selling those pounds of marijuana.

"You take the bed" I told Wade.

Me and Curly could sleep anywhere, that's what seven years in foster care does for ya.

We found a couple of blankets, and me and Curly each took a couch. It had been a hell of a day, that's for sure, and I felt myself dropping into sleep straight away.

A/N: Sorry this update was a while coming, I have been through a bit of a stressful time and writing was the last thing on my mind. Anyway things are getting back to normal, and I hope to get the rest of the story up pretty quickly, before you all get sick of it dragging on and quit reading!

I'm trying to reply to everyone so…

Hawaiichick14: I know I suck at updating! I'll be getting the next chapters up faster though.

Star414: Thanks for reviewing, I'm glad you like it.

Marti: I'm trying to keep everyone in character, good to hear you think its working. I've finally decided on the ending so I hope will you like it.

Kelly: Thanks for the compliment :) I'm surprised there's not more Tim / Curly stories on here actually, they're really fun to write for. Since S E Hinton didn't go into too much detail on them there is heaps of room for interpretation.

Ninaelis: I'm glad you like how I write Tim, I'm trying to show his good side as well as his criminal side!

Aslan: Thanks for the encouragement; I don't think anyone ever knows if their own writing is any good! I love writing but always have doubts if anyone will actually like reading it. I think I'm a bit of a sucker for the brotherly bonding thing, so it's cool that people are liking Tim and Curly's relationship.

Vripta: That's so cool that you reviewed every chapter, of course I don't hate it! I love getting reviews, and I get a buzz to know people are reading my story.

Locket the lookout: True he is probably the Outsiders character most like Dally, I think Ponyboy says something like that too in the book?

NalunaSolna: It's great that you thought that chapter was realistic, never having committed any crime, let alone such a serious one, it was hard to put myself in Tim's shoes!

ChronicSarcasm: Cool someone who writes Tim / Curly stories! I love them too, I'll have to check yours out.

Kate: Your review totally made my day! I loved how you said you could feel what Tim was feeling, as that is what I'm trying to achieve. It's really cool that you got it.

Nittanylizzard: Thanks what a cool review! I like how you give details on the parts you like, you seem to pick up what I am trying to get across. Yeah I hate sappy writing, but try to describe Tim's feelings so that, hopefully, the reader can feel what he's going through. If you got it then I'm wrapped.

Starbryte234: Yay I'm so glad you thought it was funny. I always like a few comic moments in a story, but usually suck at actually writing them!


	7. Twisted

"Tim, hey Tim."

I jerked awake, shoving myself off the couch in one movement.

"What, is the fuzz here?"

I glanced around the room, staring into the dark corners.

"Nah, no ones here." Curly was standing next to me, his voice quiet and without urgency.

"What's the fucking problem then?"

I sat back down, feeling my temper grind against breaking point. Damn little shit, what's he thinking waking a wanted man up in the middle of the night, of course I thought the worst.

"Nothing, forget it" he said, turning away.

I grabbed the back of his tee shirt and yanked him back over.

"What?" I snapped impatiently, feeling so tense it was hard to sit still. The room seemed too close around me, too quiet.

"Shit, Tim." His voice was strained and if I didn't know better I'd think he was about to cry or something.

"Shit what?" I breathed out slowly and tried to relax, but I couldn't seem to remember what relaxed felt like.

He sat down next to me and leaned his head back against the couch.

"I'm so tired" he said.

"Then fucking go back to sleep."

"Nah, tired of this."

I knew what he meant. Tired of this life that could feel like nothing more than a whirlwind you were trapped in, sometimes it seemed like you would never be able to get out. It would just keep on going, carrying on toward some bleak future.

"We'll be okay" I told him, even though I wasn't so sure of it myself.

I hated knowing that there were things beyond my control, things that couldn't be fixed with a fist.

"How, what are you gonna do? The fuzz are gonna come, we can't hide forever."

"I'm doing okay so far" I replied, because I didn't know what I was going to do.

Clearing out was the logical thing to do, but maybe I was a little more attached to my hometown than I'd ever imagined possible. I was king here, even in hiding I was king of the streets. In another city what would I be? Just another kid from the gutter, fighting over scraps, fighting just to stay alive.

"They gonna come" Curly repeated. "They gonna run you day and night, they always win. People like them always win."

He wasn't looking at me, just staring out toward the window, but I could hear the fear laced in his voice, and it was catching. Curly believed in me like no one else did, he thought I could do anything, but he didn't think I could get out of this mess.

"I'll figure something out" I said, trying to sound convincing. No matter how I felt, I always had to look like I was in control. It was what people expected of me, and it was what I wanted them to think.

I reached into my jacket where I had tossed it on the floor and got my cigarettes out.

"Goddamnit, stop treating me like a fucking kid!" Curly snapped his head back round to stare angrily at me. "Quit saying it's gonna be okay, you killed someone if you ain't forgotten already!"

He'd never spoken like that to me before, and any other time I'd have flattened him for it, but I couldn't bring myself to hit him. Beneath his angry words was desperate fear, and I could feel the old, slow ache of guilt deep in my chest.

We had only ever had each other, me and Curly. I should have done better for him.

"I ain't forgotten the reason we're sleeping on someone's fucking couch. You want me to click my fingers and make it all go away huh?"

I stopped, realizing there was no point to my argument. I wished I could make it go away, but what's done is done. And sooner or later, everything comes back to bite you.

That sharp clear instant on a bright street two mornings ago had changed everything in a way I never wanted. My old life suddenly seemed like a distant heaven, a violent heaven maybe, but at least one I could walk free in.

"I'm sick of hiding. Nothing ever gets better for us Tim."

I laughed, not to be mean, I just couldn't believe he was fifteen years old and still expecting that life would be fair.

"Didn't ya get some idea of what life would be like for us pretty early on?" I asked him, and braced myself as the memories washed over me again.

Like seeing a movie, not like something that had ever happened in my life.

…the knife in my fathers hand falling for a second time…Curly beside me, his eyes wide and transfixed, his mouth open slightly in wordless horror…and my mother most of all, the way her eyes had met mine, a silent plea…

She hadn't made a sound, until the knife struck the second time.

"Do you remember it much?" Curly asked. He obviously knew what I was meaning, even though it wasn't something we ever talked about.

I just shrugged and looked out the window, the night sky just a darker patch in the dark room, studded with stars. I wished I didn't remember it.

"We was eating ice cream" Curly said. "I remember that."

At the table with our bowels in front of us, seeing my father approach my mother from behind, her hair swinging as she turned.

"Yeah, and I ain't eaten it since."

Curly looked at me quickly, a softness in his eyes. I never admit to stuff like that, like bad memories that could still twist me inside.

"What did he say to you?"

I leaned back, remembering everything.

"I'm sorry boy" I echoed my father's words, the tired, empty tone.

I had looked into his eyes, they were so deep and far I felt like I was falling. The sound of his body hitting the ground was quieter than I'd expected, a dull thud.

I remembered running outside onto the dewy grass, the night hard and sickly white under streetlights. I had thought if I had seen this and survived I must be invincible.

"He was sorry" Curly said softly, with an edge of amusement. "He was a sorry bastard for sure."

Curly could always cut through bullshit and get to the basic straight up truth. He would be alright, I suddenly knew. Whatever happened, he was the type that could swallow his pain and keep on going.

"Tim," Curly said, "let's just go. Let's go to New York, you remember all the stories Dally used to tell us? It'd be wild there."

I thought of my gang, my friends, the kids that worshipped me, the rep I had built in this town. What I had thrown it away for.

"It'll never be the same here" Curly said. "You know that, you can't have it all your way all the time."

His image seemed to blur before me yet again that night, a child one instant, nearly a man the next.

After selling the dope tomorrow, I would have money to burn. A car, petrol, enough to get right across the country. I had never even been out of Tulsa before, I could hardly imagine the trip.

Sleeping in the car, washing up in public restrooms, eating at truck stops. Being free again, going wherever I wanted. I wondered if it would be so bad.

"We could go anywhere" Curly said, knowing. "Go to California, or Las Vegas even."

He sighed and stretched his arms above his shoulders, then I saw him flinch sharply and slowly lower his bad arm.

"Go get some sleep" I told him. "We can't do nothing now anyway."

He started to get up, then paused. "I'm going with you, whatever happens, okay?"

"Sure you are. I'm gonna need someone to carry my bags and wash my clothes."

"You suck" he said, lifting a finger.

I lay down again and shut my eyes, and Roberts face was there in front of me, his smiling innocent school photo that had filled Buck's TV screen the night he died.

Go away, I told him inside my head. If it wasn't enough for the soc's to haunt me during the day, now they wanted to haunt my sleep too?

He got what he deserved.

The next morning was like the one before, Darry up first, grabbing the paper off the porch, yelling at his younger brothers.

I hauled myself off the couch and went through to the bathroom, busting for a piss and feeling half asleep still. Bloody Curly waking me up.

He was still asleep on the couch when I went back in, despite how loud Darry could yell. I grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head up, the fasted way to wake him.

"Owww, shit Tim!"

Darry was standing by the couch reading the paper, looking kind of stressed out. Guess that's what you get for working two jobs, I find holding down one hard enough.

He sighed and passed me over the paper, so I gathered I was the big event in Tulsa again.

"Killer Eludes Police" was the headline, and underneath it was my photo, and a few lines naming me as a suspect.

I remembered visiting Dally in hospital after he was on the front page, telling him I couldn't believe they didn't have "wanted dead or alive" under his photo. They just about bloody did under mine. Apparently I was armed and dangerous, and not to be approached.

I leaned over to show that part to Curly.

"See, stay away."

He grinned blearily at me, he hates not getting his sleep. Not like me, I'm fine on about five hours a night.

"You look like shit" he observed, looking at the photo.

That was true, it was taken just a couple of nights after the last rumble, I had a busted nose and my eyes were blackened. I figured no one would recognize me from my mug shot at least.

"What's it say?" Curly asked impatiently, hanging over my shoulder.

"You can read can't ya?"

"Hey Pony." He was distracted by Ponyboy coming in.

"Morning" Ponyboy said, looking a little surprised to see us there.

"Come on Soda" Darry yelled, then turned to Ponyboy. "Hurry up, get ready for school would ya. And go wake your brother."

"I ain't got half an hour to spare to wake him" Pony replied.

Darry smiled slightly at him and shook his head, looking at me like I was supposed to understand or something. Can't say I did, I'd always left it up to Curly if he goes to school or not. I never saw what good any of that does you anyway, not for the life we were gonna lead.

"Do you wanna coffee?" Darry asked me.

"Yeah."

I was pretty hung over actually, a coffee would probably help. I went back to scanning the paper. The second page was taken up with an article headed "Class Warfare" and pretty much just went over everything that happened with Johnny killing that soc, and me killing Robert.

Whoever wrote the article seemed to think the deal was that we hated the soc's because we were jealous that they had better clothes and flash cars. Load of damn bullshit, last thing I wanted to wear was some pretty boy sweater, and if I wanted a flash car I'd just steal one. Those middle class reporters didn't know the first thing about it.

"Who's seen my shoes?" Soda demanded, coming in with just a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Find your clothes first huh?" Darry suggested.

"Yeah, yeah." Soda shrugged. "Hey Tim, you wanna sign with your name on it for that couch?"

He gave me a big enough grin that I let him get away with the smartarse comment.

"Soda come on, don't be making Pony late for school again."

"Yeah, you got me a detention slip yesterday Sodapop."

"Tell 'em to send it to me then" Soda said cheerfully, heading off back down the hallway.

"You going to school today?" Ponyboy asked Curly.

"Nah."

"Well you are Pony, so come get some breakfast."

I listened to the heavy thud of his schoolbag hitting the floor as he dropped it before going into the kitchen. The only thing Curly ever used his school bag for was stashing alcohol in when he went out.

No one had ever been able to make him go to school. But I could have, if I had really wanted to. I thought suddenly of all the possible futures stretched out ahead of Ponyboy, and the dead end in front of Curly.

He could be my second in command, maybe. I knew that was all he had ever wanted anyway, but it didn't seem so much like what he wanted as what he had been born shackled to.

"Do you want something to eat Curly?" Ponyboy called out.

"Yeah" he got up eagerly, I remembered we hadn't eaten since lunch at Dairy Queen yesterday. I wasn't even hungry, my appetite seemed to have gone.

Darry came in and handed me a coffee.

"You read the paper?" he asked me, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah, had a quick look."

He seemed to be waiting for me to say something else.

"What about it?"

He shifted his weight a little, I had never seen the guy look uncomfortable before, but he sure did now.

"I can't afford no trouble. If I go up on charges the states gonna take my brothers, alright."

Yeah here we go. I sleep on his couch a couple of nights and suddenly he wants a favor, some help, someone beaten up.

He was no different from anyone else. How was I supposed to get him off a charge anyway? Did he really expect I had a judge in my pocket or something? Although, damn we could do with a bribable judge round here.

"Your brothers ain't my fucking problem" I said bluntly.

He didn't back down like everyone else did when I got pissed off, he picked up the paper and held it out to me.

"You read that bit there? If the cops find you here they charge me with aiding and abetting."

Seemed the only favor he wanted was me to get out of his house. He had some guts, I'll give him that.

"So don't tell 'em I'm here and you won't have no problem" I said evenly.

"You know that ain't what I mean." A hint of anger had crept into his voice. "I sure won't be telling them nothing, but this neighborhood is crawling with cops now. They're kicking down doors, doing searches – they're coming Tim." He stopped and looked at me.

To keep up my rep I should have knocked him out. But I can't be an asshole all the time. Thing was I could understand, I'm the same way myself. My loyaltywould always be to my brother above anyone else.

"Fuck it I'm so hungover" Wade suddenly stumbled in and flopped down beside me, unaware he'd just interrupted a standoff.

Darry looked down at his watch. "I better get to work."

He glanced at me quickly, his expression hard to read. Curly came out the kitchen and handed me a plate.

"Here Tim, I made you some ham and eggs."

I took it warily, Curly can't cook for shit.

"You should eat something" he told me.

"Where's mine?" Wade demanded.

"In the kitchen waiting for you to cook it ya lazy prick."

"Hurry up guys!" Darry was yelling at his brothers again. No wonder he doesn't smoke, his throat wouldn't be able to handle any more punishment.

"See you guys later" Soda said to us as he headed out the door.

"See you" Pony said, following behind him. He stopped and looked back at Curly. "You going to the school dance next Friday?"

"Yeah, might stop by."

School dances weren't real tuff to go to, if Curly went it would probably only be to see how much trouble he could cause.

"And don't speed!" Darry called after Soda.

He pulled his jacket on and stood in front of me for a moment.

"I'll be seeing ya, Darry."

He could take that whatever way he wanted. While I wasn't going to try and make trouble for the guy, if I wanted to stay somewhere I would.

Darry gave me a tight smile. "Anytime" he said, which I guess I could take whatever way I wanted.

"Thanks for letting us stay" said Wade.

He's always coming out with shit like that, he's gotta be the most polite hood I've ever met. I remember holding up a store with him when we were about fourteen and he thanked the guy for handing us the money.

Curly went over to the window after Darry left and stood looking out at the street for a while.

"No fuzz out there" he reported.

"That's good, 'cause we got some pounds to move today." Wade gave me a lazy grin. "We gonna be rich today. Hey you gonna eat that?"

I shook my head and passed him the ham and eggs Curly had made, then got up and went to the window. I thought about going to New York, or California. I was going to run out of places to go in Tulsa, it wasn't big enough to hide in for long, unless I planned on never going out. And if I never went out, I might as well be in jail anyway.

"How's that arm?" I asked Curly.

"It's okay."

"Yeah?" I grabbed it and gave it a quick but light twist.

"Fuck!" He bent over his arm, his face going suddenly pale. "Fuck you Tim."

I swore myself and pulled out my cigarettes. I was gonna have to take him to the hospital, the doctor had warned that a fall or heavy impact to his arm could fracture the bone along the old break, where the pins were.

I lit a smoke and gave it to Curly. I figured I could drop him at the hospital then me and Wade could go do the deal. It would get him out the way too, I didn't really want him along. Dealing with that much dope and cash ain't a game, things can get heavy.

"So what's the plan then?" Wade asked.

"Tim could break my other arm?" Curly suggested sulkily.

"You go to Buck's and get us the car" I told Wade. "I ain't gonna go walking down the street right now. And you kid, keep giving me lip and I might."

"Damn ain't big brothers mean bastards?" Wade said sympathetically to Curly. He was the youngest of eight kids himself. "I guess I'll be a while, Buck's ain't exactly across the road."

I watched him going out the front door with a kind of sick envy. What I wouldn't do to just be able to walk out the door without thinking, walk down the street.

I looked at Curly. "We'll leave town tonight, okay."

A/N: I know there wasn't any action in that chapter but I hope it was okay anyway, even Tim has to rest sometimes!

A note on Darry not wanting Tim to stay, hopefully it didn't seem out of character. Being the responsible guy he is, especially when it comes to his brothers, I didn't think he would hide someone wanted for murder at his house.

Okay a question for any Americans reading this…how does your health system work? Is it free or user pays? I kind of have the impression from a couple of movies that people have to pay or have insurance, but are there also free hospitals / clinics? It would be helpful to know for the next chapter, so it would be cool if someone could help me out. Thanks :)

Thanks to all who reviewed, I appreciate hearing what you think. A few replies…

Starbryte: Yeah you are totally right, can't believe I missed that! The incident with the car getting rammed is loosely based on some guys I know, so it might seem crazy but it can happen!

NittanyLizard: Thanks for the review. Yeah I love writing all the emotional conflict stuff, love to torture these two boys …hehe…

Vripter: Thanks you're such a sweetie:) So what's your website? Yeah maybe your right about the category, I wasn't sure what to put it in when I started, but it seems to begetting abit more "angst" or whatever than I meant it to!

Locket the lookout: Well as you can see from this chapter Darry is not real impressed!

Reviewer: Cheers dude (as we say in NZ!). I always got the impression from the book that Tim did care about Curly, he just had a rough way of showing it.

Aslan: Yeah Curly gets hell aye, poor kid! Maybe I should let him get laid next chapter – just joking;) You have totally got how I picture him too, and yeah I think their circumstances would bring it out more too, seeing as it is just the two of them and Tim is like his brother / father / friend /all in one, plus the gang president.

Trine: Thanks, hope you enjoyed this chapter too even though it's a bit slower than the others. The relationships are the fun part (for me) I suck at writing fights!

tennischick: I can see what you mean, I guess the way I look at it is they have lost their parents and Tim is all Curly has, so he kind of clings to him as his only stability. Also Curly looks up to him not just as his big brother but as a gang leader, and for that reason too would see him as someone to be listened to. Anyway hopefully this chapter made it a bit clearer too. As for what Tim would do if Curly didn't listen to him, I think he would probably deck him!

Yellowmellow: Thanks for reviewing. I update as fast as I can, I just wish I got paid to write so I didn't have to work...then I could update much faster!

101: Hope you like this chapter, it's a long one so maybe that makes up for the wait? I'm trying to make sure Tim only thinks about how he cares about Curly, I figure he isn't the type to actually show it too much or say anything.


	8. Enemy Turf

Curly's shoulders suddenly stiffened and he drew his breath sharply.

"Oh yeah? Cool." He chucked his cigarette butt out the window. "Where to?"

He wasn't looking at me, just standing in the slouching fighter's stance he always used, his mouth turned up slightly in the same slightly amused sneer.

I wondered how he really felt about leaving the only life he'd known.

"Fuck knows, maybe…shit!"

I grabbed his shoulder and hauled him to the floor with me as a police car cruised slowly by.

"Damn," Curly pulled his knees up to his chest and gave me a sudden smile. "It's like being a fucking soldier or something ain't it? You know, got the enemy patrol, hideouts…" he trailed off, still grinning.

I sat up with my back against the wall, listening hard for the sound of a car pulling up outside. I could feel my muscles tensing, ready to run, to fight; my heart drumming under my ribs. I never felt so alive as when I had something to fight against.

When the cops were chasing you, the sirens wail in your ear, the dull beat of helicopter blades overhead, that was when you knew you'd been a part of this world, you'd made your mark.

"I know," I said to Curly. "But if they get me, I'll go down for life."

He shrugged carelessly. "They ain't gonna get you, we'll be long gone."

His lips twisted in a slight smile, his eyes hard and eager. He was excited about it, this game of soldiers, like the fucking kid he still was at heart.

"We're just running Curly. We ain't running to anything, you understand? There ain't nothing out there waiting for us."

He shrugged again and pulled at a tear in his jeans.

"You'll find more hoods to boss around, don't worry about it."

I got up and checked to see if the cops were gone, considering Curly's comment. He hadn't been joking, but I wondered if it would be as easy as that. If I got so much as a speeding ticket in another state, and they ran my name through the system…whatever life I lived next, it wouldn't be as Tim Shepard.

"Coast clear?" asked Curly.

"Yeah. Look, I'm gonna take a shower."

After a shower I put my jeans and tee-shirt back on, wishing I had a change of clothes. I figured it wasn't worth the risk going back home to pick anything up, I'd just get some stuff once I was clear of the state line.

Curly went to have a shower after me, and Wade turned up with Buck's Chevy ute.

"Man you should see the stash in the boot of that" was the first thing he said to me. The drop off had been to Bucks place, it was his money that funded the operation. He got twenty percent, me and Wade split the rest.

"So the dopes good?"

"Oh yeah." He grinned at me, bleary eyed. Least I could count on him to sample the goods, make sure it was quality.

I didn't take drugs myself, alcohol and cigarettes were my only vices, well apart from robbing people and stuff.

I got us a couple of beers out the fridge and we sat down to make a plan.

"So you reckon we should suss out the Vipers first, like check they do wanna take the lot?"

I nodded and flipped the top off my beer. "They'll take it. When I talked to Kane he said they want as much as we can get."

"You sure you don't wanna wait…"

"Nah" I cut him off. "I want it done."

"Okay then Tim" he said, a little stiffly.

When I was gone he would have what he wanted, he would be president, the toughest hood on the East Side. For a second I wondered about that, it didn't make any sense. How could anyone but me be leader of the Shepard Gang?

Wade wouldn't last anyway, he was too easygoing. He wouldn't lay out one of his own guys for selling dope on the wrong corner, he wouldn't keep control like I did. The gang wouldn't exist after I was gone, not as it had been. Nothing lasts long on the streets anyway, guys get killed, injured, jailed, they run, they break bail. I wondered if anyone ever just grew up and got out the game.

"I'll phone Kane," I said. "Make sure he gonna have all that cash upfront."

Curly came back in from his shower, smoothing down his damp hair and bitching.

"I've been wearing these same fucking clothes for three days now."

"Quit jacking off and your pants will stay clean at least" Wade cracked.

"Aww, shut up ya dickhead!" Curly laughed despite himself.

"Get something of Pony's" I told him. "You help yourself to shit everywhere else."

"I wouldn't fit his damn clothes, he's a little sucker."

"I'll sort you out later, okay?" I said and shot him a warning look. I didn't want him to go running his mouth about us leaving town just yet.

"Alright," he said. "But man, I mean I know we poor but this is getting ridiculous!"

"Didn't know you knew such long words Curly" I heard Wade taunt him as I went down the hallway to use the phone.

"Yeah, fuck I must have forgot to not listen at school one time."

I put the call through to the Vipers headquarters.

"Yeah, get Kane."

"He's asleep."

"Wake him the fuck up then."

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Tim Shepard."

"Shit, sorry, didn't know it was you, hold on…"

"Tim." The president was on the phone, his voice rough and hoarse.

"Hard night Kane?"

"Yeah, aw fuck ya should have been here man. There was this chick up on the block…ahh it was something." He laughed and started coughing.

"Next time huh. Everything still set for today?"

"Yeah, good your end?"

"We got ten if you're interested." I kept it casual, I didn't want him thinking he had me by the balls or anything. We got on okay, but there was a bit of tension between us, always is between gang leaders.

"Like I said Tim, whatever you can get."

"Okay, I'll see you."

I hung up and stood still for a second, wondering how I was going to pull this off. I was the most wanted man in town right now, and while the cops searched high and low for me I was going to be moving ten pounds of marijuana. I felt the excited, jumpy feeling of anticipation building inside me. Damn this was going to be good.

"We got a deal" I told Wade, going back to the lounge.

"What's the dough?"

I shrugged. "Call it fifteen flat I guess."

"So that's…" Wade paused, trying to do the math.

"Three grand for Buck, six each for me and you" I said.

"So, we going out to the Vipers pad huh?" Curly asked.

"Yeah, we are. Me and Wade."

"Aww Tim…"

"Quit with the fucking 'aww Tim' would ya kid. You're going to get that arm looked at."

"Aww…" he stopped himself. "I don't need no hospital, I ain't going."

"Yeah you are."

"I told you there ain't nothing wrong with it, why don't you listen instead of bossing me 'round all the goddamn time!"

His voice was getting louder and I could see him struggling to keep hold of his temper. I made like I was going to grab his arm again, and he flinched sharply away from me.

"Nothing wrong huh?"

"You're a real asshole, you know that" he told me darkly.

"Don't be such a real little shit then."

"And you ain't funny neither. If you're gonna be such an asshole all the time you should at least be able to make a joke."

That was true, humor wasn't my thing. Hell I killed the last guy who told me a joke.

"Shut up Curly, you're pissing me off now."

I saw Wade trying not to laugh. I guess it must have looked pretty funny, a gang leader copping shit from his little brother. Curly could always get away with saying stuff no one else could. I never took it serious coming from him.

"Why you so fucking worried about it?" Curly asked me.

"Don't you remember what the doctor said about the bone re-breaking?"

"Fuck I dunno what they said, they shot me full of morphine remember?" He grinned and added, "that was fucking cool. I was wasted."

"Yeah that's right, you didn't talk sense all night. Come to think of it, that ain't no different from any other night."

"Hell was that a joke Tim? It was almost funny that time, keep trying."

He laughed and ducked as I aimed a fist in his direction. He could never stay mad at me for more than about five minutes.

We spent the required minute or so scanning for cops before heading outside to the car. The streets felt like enemy turf, the streets I was supposed to own. Never have I regretted anything, but if I could have just one wish, I would wish for that soc to live again.

We drove first to the hospital, windows up, the haze of smoke from our cigarettes filling the unventilated car. Wade swung into the hospital car park and pulled up outside.

"Tell them you want an x-ray, okay" I said to Curly.

"I ain't got no money Tim."

"Tell 'em to send a bill."

"You ain't paid the last one neither."

"Course I ain't. Not my fucking problem you climbed a telephone pole. I'll be at Buck's, phone when you ready to be picked up."

"Okay." He sighed and got out the car reluctantly. "Goddamn waste of time" he said before slamming the door.

I watched him go up to the entrance, the rolling swagger in his walk. The people smoking on the steps outside looked away from him, moved aside to let him pass. Curly was just a kid to me still, probably always would be. It was amusing to be reminded that other people saw a tough hood when they looked at him.

"Get out, I wanna drive" I said to Wade.

If we did get chased by the fuzz, I wanted to be the one in control. I wouldn't put my freedom in someone else's hands, there was no one I trusted that much.

I was waiting at the traffic lights to turn onto the highway when I saw Julia. She had just gotten out of a car and was heading into the drugstore, her back to me. I watched her hips swinging, the fall of her hair onto her shoulders. I remembered the way she had moved beneath me.

"Tim, the lights green."

I slammed my foot on the accelerator before Wade could see who I'd been looking at. Fuck her, the bitch.

We were at the Vipers pad about twenty minutes later. I kicked aside the snarling pad dog and banged on the front door, remembering past nights here. Curly drunk and puking on the front steps, the vice presidents girlfriend pulling me into the bathroom for a quickie, the pad dog lapping up spilt beer, Dallas throwing some guy through a window. All I'd have after today would be memories.

I heard deadbolts being slid back and one of the junior members opened the door.

"Hey, Tim." He thrust his hand into mine and shook eagerly. "How's it going?"

"Kane here?"

"Yeah, down here."

Kane was in one of the bedrooms, a mirror balanced on his lap as he carefully cut up lines.

"Having breakfast Kane?"

He jumped and looked up, grabbing the mirror as it wobbled.

"Tim, Wade, come on in."

He offered me a rolled up fifty dollar note.

"Nah, not for me."

"Got the goods?"

"Got the dough?"

"Yeah, fourteen?"

"Fuck off, fifteen. Your call."

He grinned at me and bent over the mirror. "You don't muck round do ya Tim?"

He snorted about five lines before looking up at me again. "We'll take it."

He rubbed his nose and sniffed loudly. "Damn, shit's cut. Wade?"

Wade took the note, not looking at me. He always seemed a little ashamed doing drugs around me. I leaned against the wall casually, trying to hide my impatience. I could feel nervous tension building up in my guts, waiting for them to have their lines, waiting to make the deal, waiting for Curly, waiting for night to fall.  
If just one thing went wrong, I would have a lifetime of waiting in a cell, waiting to die.

A/N: This is half a chapter really, but it was getting so long I just decided to post what I've got so far. This whole story is getting longer than I meant it to be, I find myself getting wrapped up in subplots somehow. Like Curly's arm getting hurt was never meant to be anything and suddenly he's going to the hospital…I don't know how that happened. Anyway my point is, I hope it doesn't seem like I'm just dragging stuff out and going nowhere with it, but I just write it the way it happens if you get what I mean? But the end is in sight okay?

As for the price of marijuana in 1960's America, I took a wild guess. If it's totally inaccurate, sorry.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed.

NittanyLizzard: I'm glad you enjoyed that chapter, personally I liked it even though it wasn't what I had planned. I find myself going off on these tangents and then thinking…well that was probably totally boring for whoever read it! It's like Tim and Curly are out of my control sometimes, damn hoods!

Starbryte234: Thanks for the info on healthcare, and gas not petrol. It's kind of weird writing a story that takes place in a country I've never even been to!

Just Playin: Thanks for the info, I'm from New Zealand so hospital care is free here. I watched the movie "John Q" where this kid can't get a heart transplant because his parents can't pay for it, so that's why I thought that!

Vripter: Thanks for reviewing, I'll check your site out. Sorry to be really dumb, but what does it mean when people write "lol"? I've been wondering about that!

Reviewer: Thanks for the info, I had assumed there would be some sort of assistance for people on a low income but wanted to check!


	9. Under the Sun

I glanced out the window to reassure myself the truck with its $15,000 cargo was still outside, that no cops were lurking, waiting to drag me down. I couldn't wait for this day to be over, and I wanted it to go on forever. The last day of my life as Tim Shepard, with all the respect and the fear that my name was granted in this town. I would miss it more than I ever thought. I missed it already, with a sick longing.

Kane stood up and regarded me for a moment, his eyes hooded.

"You wouldn't cross me, would ya Shepard?" he asked.

"Fucks sake Kane" I snapped, my frustration boiling over. "You ever known me to shit on anyone in a deal?"

He shrugged, his expression unchanging.

"It's a lotta dope to be flogging off, you got better ways to do it. So what's the problem, if the dope is good why ain't you selling it yourself."

"Your word from the street is slow in coming Kane, if you ain't got no idea why I'm moving this quickly" I replied evenly, holding his eyes.

I saw him make the connection, but I couldn't believe he hadn't thought about it already. Must have got where he did more on muscle and intimidation than smarts.

"And," I added "that's why you're getting a fucking good deal on it. I ain't got the time to play with you, so make your mind up now."

No way would this prick think he had backed me into a corner, try and beat the price down. He nodded, and his stance relaxed a little.

"That's right, took that boy down didn't you!"

He reached out to shake my hand, but I felt suddenly sick. He had only been a boy, and I had taken him down for nothing more than an insult. God knows my own brother gets mouthy enough, but did he deserve to die for it? I pulled my hand out of his grip and hitched my thumbs in my pockets.

"So, if that's a yes, lets get on with things" I said.

Wade stood up wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

"Why don't we back that truck up into your garage and unload then huh?" he suggested, looking abruptly excited and impatient. I remembered feeling the same way myself the couple of times I had taken coke. I had liked the feeling a little too much, and didn't touch the stuff again.

Kane nodded and headed for the door. Then he turned and gave me a strange look, both envy and pride in his eyes.

"You know Tim, you ain't gotta worry about nothing. Ain't no one in town gonna be fool enough to testify against you. Not even those rich brats."

Wade laughed behind me. "Some of 'em might be suicidal, ya don't know."

Kane laughed too, but I didn't see anything funny about it. The soc's weren't like us, they didn't think the rules of the street applied to them. And if I was in jail, how could I scare them out of testifying anyway? Curly would try, but his threats wouldn't spark the fear in people that I knew mine did.

I backed the ute into the garage and Kane shut the door behind it. We unloaded quickly in the cold echoing interior, Kane and Wade laughing and heaving the packages around. I wanted to yell at them to shut up. That this was life, and it wasn't all just a game like we thought, a game where the tough guys never lose.

Kane came over to stand next to me while I counted out the bundles of money he had handed over. I just scanned each one quickly, mentally ticked it off, and chucked it in a bag. Kane knew better than to rip me off, I didn't trust him but I trusted the weight my name carried.

"So what are you gonna do Tim?" he asked, the same question I had been asked by everyone these last few days.

There was eagerness beneath the concerned tone. I guess Kane thought if I was gone it'd be him at the top, with everything that was mine. I felt anger stirring inside, these guys thought they could just step up and slide into my place, like my rep was a pair of shoes I'd left behind. I guess that's the problem with being on the top rung of the ladder, the people standing below are always waiting for you to fall off. Even if their friends, they wanna be the ones with the place in the sun.

"I'm gonna sit back and let come what may" I replied, being deliberately vague.

He would know I was gone tomorrow, but he didn't have to know that right now.

"Yeah" he said, "well least you got plenty of cash to lay low for a while."

He gave me a smile that was genuine, and I wondered if I'd judged him harshly. Maybe he was my friend, maybe he did want me to win.

"See you round" I told him, shaking his hand briefly and getting back into the cab of the ute.

"I'm gonna leave tonight" I told Wade as I drove back into town.

"Huh?" He turned to look at me, his expression not what I'd expected. "Shit Tim, you can get off this you know…"

He paused, his sentence hanging. The loss in his voice stayed with me.

"Tim," he started again. "They can't prove nothing."

"They know it was me, they got witnesses. They put those rich boys up on the stand, who's the jury gonna believe huh."

"I'll testify, say it was self defence, Curly'll back it up."

"Fuck" I muttered, holding back a laugh. The childishness of his argument, the belief that justice was blind and fair. But most of all I was surprised, at how he was trying to hold me here. I knew I was a hero to the kids, that was to be expected. I'd never thought I might be a hero to my second in command too.

"You were the one who told me to go to Mexico" I pointed out to him.

"Yeah" he laughed harshly. "I did. Fuck Tim, no one could ever tell you what to do anyway. I didn't think you'd really go and do it."

"Well I ain't going to fucking Mexico anyway, just some other state."

I felt that strange sad nostalgia creeping in again as I looked out at the high, cloudless sky, stretching out around us. I had never wanted to be anywhere but here. The last day of my life, I thought again. The last real day.

"I ain't staying here in hiding the rest of my life, and I ain't turning myself in. You think I'm gonna put my life in the hands of some jury, let 'em decide if I'm gonna go to the chair or rot in jail?"

"It's all bullshit" he said bitterly. "You know if you were the one dead, they'd be calling it kid's play, just rough stuff gone too far. It's street justice man, why they gotta drag it through the courts anyways. What the fucks it got to do with any of them."

"You sound like Curly" I told him. "He thinks life should be fair too."

"So what's he doing? You'll break his heart if you leave, that kid loves you like nothing else."

"He's coming. Dumb little shit would only get himself killed if I left him to his own devices."

Thinking of Curly, if it was anything like the first time he got his arm fixed, he'd be doped to high heaven when I picked him up. That was just another thing to worry about, escaping in the dead of night with a stoned bloody kid. I slowed as we neared Bucks place, scanning the parking lot quickly, searching the trees, the shadowy places. It looked quiet and empty, I heard only the gravel crunching under the wheels of the ute as I turned in.

"See anything?" I asked Wade.

"Nah, looks clear."

"I'm gonna need a car, a legit one" I added as I parked up by the front door. "Know any for sale?"

"Buck will, I only know people with stolen cars for sale."

"Yeah me too, guess that's the problem with being a hood."

I got out the car slowly, ready to jump back in if I saw anything. I stood by the door for a while and scanned the parking lot, wondering how my life had come to this. I would always be hesitating, always looking over my shoulder. And Curly too. What was I bringing him for? To condemn him to a life outside of everything, never belonging, nameless and drifting. If he stayed here he could live off my rep, he would build his own in time, he could be someone even without me. I rested my head against the pillar of the car, suddenly overwhelmed with tiredness. I had always been the one who held the world, I never thought my own life would slip from my hands.

"Tim, you alright?" Wade asked me.

"Yeah" I straightened quickly. "Let's sort this shit."

I grabbed the bag from the boot of the car and took it inside.

"Tim, hey Tim!"

A chorus of rough drunken voices greeted me as I strolled in, seemed half my outfit had come to hang out at Bucks that day. It occurred to me they were there looking for me, I hadn't seen anyone for three days. They probably needed me to tell them what to do next.

I felt my mood lift as I was surrounded by my gang, the back slaps and handshakes, the admiration in their eyes. This I would miss, the mad love of gang followers for a leader. I was a hero, a brother, a friend, a father, I was everything that they wanted and needed me to be.

I looked around for Buck and saw him behind the bar, watching and waiting. For an instant he reminded me so much of my father that last night of his life, I could hardly breathe. The way he was looking at me, sad and sorry, like he had already seen my whole life ahead of me and knew how it would play out.

I pushed my way through the boys and went up to the bar, knowing if Buck was still looking at me like that by the time I got there I would pound his face in. But he was grinning and holding out a beer, the same kind of admiration on his face as my boys had.

"Lets go out back" I said to him.

We went out to his office and I quickly dished out his share of the money.

"Buck," I said, sorting the piles on a table. "Can you get me a car quick? A legit one I mean."

"You leaving town?" he asked in his slow drawl.

"Yeah, but keep your mouth shut about it. Can you?"

"Yeah, give me an hour or so. Anything special?"

"Nothing too stand out, an Impala maybe."

He nodded and looked hard at me, the sadness touching his eyes again.

"I had a brother go down for murder. He was nineteen when he went to the chair, just a kid. Don't let 'em get you."

I nodded and zipped the bag up again. "They can't get me if they can't find me."

I went back out to the boys, Bucks words playing on my mind. But I wouldn't let that happen, not to me. That would not be how I left the world, strapped into a chair and killed by prison officers. I would fight to the end, they would never get me.

Everyone started talking to me at once, I sat back drinking my beer and listening to snatches of conversation as they broke into one another, getting the picture.

"…the cops fucking kicked down my front door thinking you were at my place…"

"…and Will McIntyre's carrying round a gun now…"

"…they got roadblocks on the main highway out of town…"

"…that soc's parents got a $10,000 reward for whoever turns you in…"

"…they hired that lawyer Lloyd Johnson, and he's gonna ask for the death penalty…"

I nodded and kept cool, casually rolling a cigarette, but felt myself tensing up. I'd heard of Lloyd Johnson, everyone had, he was considered one of the best prosecuting attorneys in Oklahoma. His rate of success was high, his methods rumored to be dirty.

"Tim" I heard Buck calling above the noise.

I looked up and he held his hand to his ear, indicating a phone call.

"It's Curly" he said as we went back out to his office. "I got you a car too, it'll be here in twenty minutes."

"Thanks." I picked up the phone and held it for a second, not speaking. What was I dragging the kid into? If I left him, he would get over it, eventually.

And I remembered the first boy's home we had lived at, in the months after our parents died. Every night Curly would crawl into my bed after lights out, and every night I would pretend to be asleep so I wouldn't have to tell him to get out. I could still feel the way his thin arms had pressed against me, still hear the soft catch to his breath as he cried without making a sound. He never knew I needed him almost as much as he needed me.

"Yeah?" I spoke because the bond between us was the womb we had borne from, and the blood we shared, and most of all the memories.

"You gonna come pick me up still?" he demanded, a plea beneath the rough tone. How could I have thought he would get over it if I left him?

"You get that arm fixed?"

"Yeah, they reset it. Hurt like a bitch, but I told 'em not to dope me."

He wasn't so dumb, I didn't give him enough credit sometimes.

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes, don't …"

"I know Tim" he broke in impatiently. "I won't wait outside, I'll run out when I see you okay?" I really didn't give him enough credit.

My boys were whooping it up out in the bar, slamming back beers, flashing knives, swinging fists. I watched over them for a minute, and it occurred to me that if I came back in ten years time, they would still be in the bar, drinking beer, flashing knives, swinging fists.

I caught Wade's eye and gave him a nod, he came over to stand beside me.

"I'm gonna get Curly, I'll be back soon."

"You wanna wait here and I'll go get him?"

"Nah," I shook my head, thinking of all the tales of cops coming through doors, carrying out searches in every place they thought I could be. The less I was in one place, the better. I went back to the table my gang was at, and their gazes swung to me.

"I'm gonna get my brother, I'll be back"

I bit back a smile, a real smile for them, because they had given me their loyalty, they had followed me blindly. They had made up for all that my parents never gave me.

Again I drove the streets in Buck's ute, and I could feel a slow calm growing over me. Whatever came, I could win in this life. I was born to fight.

I turned into the hospital for the second time that day and pulled up near the entrance. Hardly had I stopped and I saw Curly coming out, his arm held stiffly in a cast. But there was the same swagger to his step, the confident, defiant smirk on his lips. And even as I watched, horror fell across his face.

He opened his mouth to yell and stumbled forward, but whatever he said was lost in the noise behind me.

"Police! Put your hands up, we have you surrounded!"

I turned wildly, saw the cops beside my window, the cops running towards the car, the cops coming in the rearview mirror. The guns readied, aimed.

My life retreated from me, it slowed and turned until I could see everything, every police car, every cop, every gun, the circle they made around me. I saw us all under the sun, and knew my life was over. There would only be steel and bars and doors with locks, and I wasn't afraid to die. I still had time in this slowly turning world, they wouldn't take me, not to a cell, not to the chair.

They wouldn't take me, they wouldn't take me….I fumbled for the door handle, my other hand around my switchblade. I would take one out with me…and I wasn't afraid to die, not in this last bright instant of life. I looked to my brother as he stood on the hospital steps, stiff and still, his face stripped of everything but grief.

And the screams fell down around me "Don't move, put your hands up!"

But I saw only Curly's eyes, locked on mine. The bleak, hopeless eyes of the child who had watched his parents die, was about to watch his brother die.

…and I raised my hands high.

* * *

A/N: That was by the far the chapter I found hardest to write, I don't know if I've got it down right, but I think I could rewrite it about fifty times and it still wouldn't sound right so…I guess it'll have to do. Anyway hope you enjoy. 

Replies to reviewers:

Starbryte234: Glad you think its okay being long, as I still have quite a bit more to go! Well I've gotten kinda attached to Curly, so he will still be part of the story.

Aslan: Thanks good to hear you liked the last chapter too, I wondered if it might be a bit boring but put it in anyway as I thought it was important to the story. Funny thing about Curly is I never meant for him to be in the story as much as he has been, but the more I wrote him the more he grew on me.

hollistergurl: Aww I thought I was pretty good with this update, it was only a week or so:) I wish I could update more often, but I have a job not to mention a boyfriend I like to spend time with!

Candygurl: Glad you enjoyed that chapter, but every week is the limit of my updating speed. I like to make long chapters, plus I do some severe editing before posting. You should be glad, you wouldn't wanna see the pre-edit of this story! It'd be about 100 pages long already probably.

NittanyLizard: Cool I'm glad you noticed the little detail, nice to know people do. I was actually trying to think up a joke for Tim to say, and realized that I've written him as a pretty serious sort of guy. Anytime I want him to make a joke, it just doesn't work at all. So I figured, I guess he has no sense of humor, that's okay! Sometimes these characters take on their own life, and you can't force them to do things anymore!

Frenchfry44: Thanks heaps, that's a really nice compliment.

Yellowbear: I'm so glad you like the detail, I honestly wonder if I'm boring people to death sometimes! But I like writing everything the way I picture it – it's kinda like a movie in my head – so I put it in anyway 'cause it's my story.

Vripta: Ahh that makes sense, here's me wondering if it was some weird American slang I've never heard of!

This is awesome: Thanks for the review, and the pen name, that's cool of you! Funny you should mention another story, I've had so much fun writing Tim and Curly I was thinking of writing one. Well I have one in mind already, but I don't have time to write two stories at once so it won't be started for a while.

Skateboard101: I'm starting to feel guilty about not updating enough! I try to be fast, but my boyfriend will probably disown me if I spend anymore time on it than I already do. I'm glad you like it so much, it's really encouraging to hear. Thanks heaps.


	10. Closed in

"We got him, we got him!" one of the cops yelled, triumphant.

I looked out over the parking lot, saw the jagged rows of police moving in tighter, saw that there was no escape and never had been.

"Don't do nothing stupid Shepard" another cautioned, coming round to my door.

I stayed still, my heart thudding high in my chest, the world closing around me again. I wondered if I would come to regret this moment for the rest of my life, however much of it I might have left. I watched Curly lift his hands to his pockets, feeling for his knife, an automatic gesture when trouble comes. Then he dropped them again, clenching his fingers, sick despair on his face.

My door was opened and a couple of the cops grabbed me and hauled me out. They slammed me to the concrete face down, I felt my teeth go through my lip, felt the coldness of steel settle around my wrists. One of the cops dug his knee into my back, holding me down, while another searched my pockets.

"Tim Shepard, you are under arrest for the murder of Robert Casey" a voice intoned from above.

But I never meant to kill him.

"You have the right to remain silent…"

I might as well, because none of them would ever believe what I had to say anyway.

"Anything you do say…"

I would say I never meant for it to be this way.

"You have the right to an attorney…"

The hot concrete pressed against my stomach, the cop's knee pressed down into my back, no lawyer could get me out of this trap.

"If you cannot afford an attorney…"

"Shit the kid probably knows the spiel better than you do Mike" one of the cops broke in.

I listened to the drone of voices above me, felt my body rebelling against this forced submission, my muscles tensing, my blood running hot. I had to fight the urge to twist under the cop, try and throw him off, to be allowed to fight for my life. They made us greasers fight for everything else in this world.

"Do you understand your rights?"

Dally's mate, Two Part's or whatever the fuck his name was, once bragged about getting arrested and telling the cops he didn't understand his rights, so they had to keep repeating them. He was another who still thought life was all a game.

"Do you understand, Shepard?" the cop repeated, booting me in the ribs.

"Yeah, I understand."

I was hauled to my feet, about three cops all holding onto me, others standing stiff with pistols cocked, fingers ready. I felt a hard pride inside, that they thought I was that bad, that dangerous. The police cars were still enclosing us, and around them in a wider circle stood a growing crowd, shock and excitement on their faces, the kind of fascination that people stare at car accidents with. That glimpse into a life that was bloody and shattered, something to have nightmares about. It was like a fucking universe with me at the centre, all eyes on me, all guns, all fear.

"Let's go, lets go."

One last moment under the sun, standing in the universe I'd created, and I was shoved into the back of a police car, the door slammed. Fear fell like a hammer, like a punch to the guts. This would be my life as I would ever know it, one of slamming doors.

_trapped in a cage trapped like a fucking rat trapped_

Give me back that moment in time when I still had a choice, take Curly off those steps so I could die without the guilt.  
I looked again at him as we pulled away, standing still on the steps. He was staring at the car I was in, but not seeing me. He looked emptied out, with the bright hope for life that was always in him gone. The kid who thought that soc's were alright underneath, that Julia would help me out, that greasers could escape. Why did he have to be there, why did he have to need me so much?  
Almost as much as I needed him.

Back to the station, back through the streets, and so many memories.

…of Curly bloody and proud, grinning at me after a fight…and Julia turning to look at me for the first time, smiling shyly…and brawling on the waste ground with all the boys and the soc's…and chucking bottles at the patrolling police cars…and Wade running out of the liquor shop with bottles clinking in his jacket…

...and it was all I had ever wanted.

"We got Shepard!" the young cop at my side announced gleefully as they led me into the station, his older partner flanking my other side.

The few people in the station swung round to look at me, the booking officer, a couple of cops standing by the wall, two scruffy guys on the bench seat, some lawyer type in a suit. But this wasn't the universe I wanted to be the centre of, the cool white interior of the station, the muffled quiet. If Curly was here he'd be cracking some wise ass comment, I wished I could remember one. My mind had gone blank, I couldn't understand how I had ended up here. Where had they come from, how had they known?

"Lets book him, get him down for questioning" the older cop said.

"Hope you blew your little brother a goodbye kiss Shepard" the younger cop taunted. "'Cause you ain't never gonna see him again."

"Aww shut ya mouth" the older cop responded wearily, snapping gum in his mouth.

"You only saying a fucking word to me 'cause I'm handcuffed" I told the young one scornfully.

"You gonna be handcuffed a good long time too."

"Goddamnit!" I turned sharply to him, restrained by the older cops hand on my arm. "You think I ain't been to the cooler before, you fucking moron. You get visitors every week and you ain't handcuffed all the time, I know that. Go find some crime to solve would you?"

The older cop smirked slightly, then spat his gum toward a bin and turned to me.

"Quit with the lip. You think you're pretty shit hot for a kid who's gonna come out of jail an old man, if you don't ride the lightening that is."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You wanna make a statement son?"

The detective stripped the cellophane off his cigarette packet methodically as he spoke. I tilted back in my chair and cast an eye over the blank grey walls of the interrogation room.

"Yeah, I wanna state that these handcuffs are too fucking tight."

He looked at me seriously for a moment, then raised one hand and motioned toward the two way glass. The young wise guy officer came in a second later.

"Uncuff him."

He took the cuffs off and went back out, while the detective regarded me in silence.

"Cigarette?" he offered.

I rubbed my wrists and took the smoke.

"Where's the bad cop?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his graying hair.

"Me and you both been in this game a little too long for that bullshit, don't you think son. Co-operate with me and we won't have any trouble, give me a hard time and I can make life hard for you."

I leaned back and turned my lips in a slight smirk at him, thinking of the few comforts they could offer and take away in holding cells.

"Give me a statement."

I shrugged. "About…?"

"Tell me what happened with Robert Casey."

"I ain't met the kid."

"He's dead, and I got three witnesses who say you killed him."

"You got three guys lying to you then."

The detective looked at me, his face drawn and tired. He looked like he should have retired years ago.

"We got you on this one Shepard. The best you can hope for is a plea bargain for manslaughter. Prosecutions going for murder one, you know what that means?"

"The chair" I said casually, keeping it tough, like I didn't give a shit.

But as I said it my stomach suddenly rolled, I felt a shiver run through me. I wasn't afraid to die, but I was afraid to die like that.

He looked at me and nodded slightly, his shoulders hunched wearily. His eyes seemed hung with the weight of all the dead bodies he'd seen, and I wondered how many people he'd sat across from in this smallbare room, and how many of them he'd helped send to their death.

He cast his gaze over me, a long searching in his eyes. I could see the young cop he must have been once, with the certainty he would be the one to make all the difference in the world.

"You're just a kid. But so was he."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I sat on the bed. I lay on the bed. I stood. I walked the length of the cell, back and forward. I sat down again. I wondered how many seconds had gone by, or minutes, or hours. I tried not to think about Curly. I tried not to hear the electric hum of the fluorescent light above me, to imagine how it would feel running through my body. I thought about a life being taken to make up for the loss of life. How could that balance ever be weighted right? I stood and paced again, five steps, five steps, five steps.  
I waited for my lawyer.

The young cop came to take me down to meet my lawyer.

"Guess you pretty smart, like everyone says. Smart enough to know you need a fucking lawyer at least" he said as we walked the corridor. "Pity you're little brother ain't so smart."

I ignored the provocation as he laughed. He'd tell me what he was getting at anyway, guys like him take every chance they can to work on peoples nerves. Guess that's why so many of them end up as cops, so they can do it without getting their teeth knocked out.

"Yeah," he continued when I remained silent. "Guess you got the brains in the family." His voice raised a note and took on an exaggerated tough drawl. "'It's Curly'" he held one hand cupped to his ear. "' Is Tim there…you gonna pick me up'"

He stopped and looked to see my reaction. "Signs into hospital under the name Shepard, like they ain't been told to be on the lookout, fuck that is one dumb kid!"

I stopped abruptly and stepped in front of him, he took a step back.

"Hey, watch it" he snapped nervously. I stood a good few inches taller than him, and he touched his hand to his baton.

"If he's as dumb as you say, then why ain't you recruiting him to join the police force?"

"Aww, real cute, real funny" he muttered, opening a door. "Wait in there."

I took a seat at the table, glanced around the room, just like every other room in this fucking place. A minute later the door swung open again, a young guy in a suit strode in.

"Tim Shepard? I'm Tony Clark, I'll be representing you."

I looked at the smooth faced kid who was holding his hand out to me.

"You're my lawyer, you gotta be fucking kidding! I want one that ain't at school still, got it?"

He withdrew his hand and took the seat opposite me, not looking put out.

"Law degree from Oklahoma University, passed the bar last year" he said quickly, looking distracted. "Stuck doing fucking charity cases 'till I get more experience and more fame."

He flashed a brief smile. "So I'm it for you, lawyers like Lloyd Johnson don't work legal aid cases, unless they're a whole lot better publicity than defending you is going to bring. You're the scourge of the city to the media, you know that?"

He sat back and straightened his suit jacket. I was going up against Lloyd Johnson, and this kid was using me as practice for the real thing? The lawyer waited for me to make the next move.

"I want a real lawyer, this is my fucking life."

"I am a real lawyer. And unless you got the dough, you don't have a whole lot of choice. You can have me, or you can have some old guy who fucked up every thing else he ever worked on, and that's why he's stuck doing cases like yours."

He stared at me, unafraid. Beneath his fancy jacket was something hard and unyielding.

"You think you can win?"

He pulled out a pad and sat forward with his pen poised.

"Tell me what happened, leave nothing out. Then I'll figure out how I'm gonna win it for you."

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the slight delay in posting, I had to do a bit of quick research on "U.S Justice System" (thanks google!) for some of the legal crap in this chapter. Hope you enjoyed, let me know what you think! 

Thanks heaps to everyone who reviewed, a few replies…

hollistergurl: dude you made me feel really guilty – seriously! Guess this chapter answers your question, and you'll see Curly in the next chapter – which will be soon I promise!

pinkcottoncandy: uh sorry, he's in jail…hope you still enjoyed :)

Islandsweetie: Yeah prequel is what happens before the story. Glad you're enjoying this, but I think it's the only story about Tim! Well that I've seen at least, I guess there's probably a few further back on the site

CookieCrumb54: Thanks for the review. Sorry…hope you don't hate me for putting Tim in jail. I have another story about them planned, but it won't be written till this is finished.

tennischick: Hey thanks, 2 reviews! Sorry this chapters a bit delayed.

babyhilts: Thanks for reviewing, hope you enjoyed the rest too. I thought it would be interesting to do Tim's POV, since he's not really developed in The Outsiders, and Curly doesn't appear at all.

Aslan: So glad you liked the story about the boys home and thought it was believable, I hoped it wouldn't seem a bit sappy or whatever, but the idea just came as I wrote it and it felt right, so I left it in.

fritoqueen: Most people seem to like the idea of another story, me too! If people wanna read it then I'm happy to write it.

NalunaSolna: Glad you was, I wanted the ending to be tense! I was trying to have it a bit of a last minute surprise.

Reviewer: Thanks, glad you liked the ending. Yep, I have another story in mind about Tim and Curly.

Tensleep: Glad you decided to read it :) Yeah I am trying to plan it pretty carefully, I messed up a part in the first chapter (not telling what part!) and couldn't go back and change it since it was already posted. So I learnt my lesson.

Just Playin: Thanks I'm so glad you said that in your review, I hadn't realized till then that it does sound like one of Tim's friends tipped off the cops. So I put the explanation in this chapter, hope it clears that up.

starbryte234: Yeah I felt bad for them too, and I'm the one writing it! It was meant to be sad though, so I guess that's a good thing.

NittanyLizard: I loved how you used the words "unconditional love" in your review as that's the exact words I originally used, but then took them out as it seemed too unsubtle. I try not to beat readers over the head with what the characters are feeling, but then I wonder if I'm being too vague, it's great that you got what I meant.


	11. Heart of a Fighter

My lawyer pushed his pad away from him and looked up at me for the first time since I had started my story. He hadn't interrupted once, just listened and scribbled down notes while I talked.

"Had any of them made a move to attack you before you knifed that boy?"

I thought back, remembering that moment, wishing I could go back and change it. They had been circling me, stepping in closer, Will had a knife drawn same as me. I had stood still and ready, under the sun and the shadows of buildings, scared of nothing in this world. If I could really go back, I would probably do the same thing again, despite everything. How could I not have?

"Not really, they was just about to, you know…"

I paused, figuring the lawyer would have only ever been on the other side of the fight. He would have been the soc's. He didn't know what it was like have nothing but what you had fought for. And now I had to trust him with my life.

He stretched and gave me a grin.

"I think we're gonna go for the self defense angle here, what about those boys ahhh…" he checked his notes again. "Darrel and Soda, you were on the ground when they came along?"

"Yeah, look," I sighed, wishing I had a cigarette. "I just cut him. It wasn't enough to kill someone, it really wasn't."

What was the point, he would never believe me, and no one ever would.  
I would be served to the beast, left to grow old behind these walls, or die with lightening running through my body. And there would be no shelter for any of us. Not for Roberts parents, not for Curly, not for me. No punishment and no pain that could ever make a smartass rich kid live again.

"You really think that?" he sounded genuinely interested. "You just cut him the one time?"

"Yeah, just in and out" I mimed it with a quick flick of my wrist. Anger coursed through me, rising over the despair. He died for that, for nothing. And now so would I.

"I'll take a look at the photos, talk to forensics." He jotted something down in his notes again, talking to himself more than me. "Meet with those Curtis boys, see what they say…"

He started putting stuff back into his briefcase, talking as he did.

"You'll go to court to be arraigned in the morning, you'll be asked to enter a plea…"

"I know all that shit, I got priors" I cut in.

"Of course." He looked at me, strange recognition on his face. "Well I'll see you there then, might as well apply for bail but don't hold your breath."

"Not with the fucking soc judge" I said.

"That's right, your biggest problem is who you killed, not what you did. Why couldn't you have killed one of those Brumly Boys, they'd be giving you a pat on the back?" He lifted an eyebrow and grinned.

I couldn't believe I was stuck with this idiot as my lawyer.

"Man, what the fuck do you know about anything?"

He paused in the doorway and turned to me, the knowing look on his face again.

"I should know all about the Brumly Boys, I grew up right on River Road."

"Now you're telling me I got a fucking greaser for a lawyer?"

"I come from the same place you do. I was fourteen when I saw my older brother killed. He was just a punk kid with a drunk for a father and more enemies than friends, dead at nineteen. I saw him in his coffin, and I knew I didn't want to live and die like him, with nothing."

I didn't know if it was worse than when I thought he was a soc.

"How'd you get to be a lawyer and all then, you mug someone for that bit of paper?"

I wasn't kidding, this guy had better be for real.

"I won a scholarship when I was seventeen, it put me through school. See you in court."

I sat waiting to be taken back to my cell. He was a kid, and he was a greaser. Shit it just kept getting better.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You are charged with the murder of Robert Casey, how do you plead?"

For an instant I thought about just holding my head high and saying "Guilty". This was the life I had chosen to lead. But I had never backed down from a fight before, and I couldn't start now.

"Not guilty."

I stood in the dock with my lawyer and the same two cops who had brought me in the day before on my other side. The judge shuffled some paper on his desk, he hadn't even looked at me since calling me up.

"Due to the serious nature of the charge, the application for bail is denied. You are to be remanded to the custody of Oklahoma State Penitentiary. Trial date is set for November tenth. Step down."

"Gregory Ivan" he announced as I was led out, hardly waiting until I was out of the dock. I was just the latest in a long line of criminals, not so special after all. Not so much smarter than all the rest that I couldn't be caught.

"We got a bus going up to the State Pen' today" the older cop said to me as we walked down the long, high corridors of the courthouse. "Looks like you'll be taking a ride later."

I could see daylight through the double doors at the end of the hallway as we approached the exit, and felt my pulse speeding up. My whole body seemed to be one collective urge, aching to breakaway, to run and fight and escape. Yet still the cops fingers dug into my upper arms, my hands were shackled behind my back, the young cop's baton struck my side rhythmically as he strode beside me. I could see no way back.

"Here's the fucking circus" the old cop said dryly as we stepped through the doors.

I blinked at the brightness of the sun and the flash of cameras, we had hardly taken two steps outside before we were hemmed in by reporters.

"Step aside, get back everyone!" the young cop yelled, swaggering out ahead of me. He started clearing a path down the steps of the courthouse, pushing his way through.

The cameras went off and the reporters called out to me.

"How did you plead?"

"Did you do it?"

"Do you have anything to say to Robert's parents?"

I ignored them, just kept my head up and a slight smile on my lips, knowing my photo would be on the front page of the paper the following day.

"Damn it Tim" my lawyer hissed near my ear. "Stop looking so pleased with yourself, you supposed be remorseful."

And I was, but that didn't mean I was going to show it. I didn't think I could show my feelings anymore even if I wanted to, I only knew how to bury them.

We made our way down the steps and to the waiting police van. The cops shoved me in the back and slammed the doors closed, shutting out the light and noise and clamor of the crowd. I could still hear the muffled jostling outside for a minute, and then it faded away. I looked out the wire covered window of the van, already the reporters were heading off, going to find the next big story. It struck me suddenly that this is how it would be. I wouldn't be a legend on the streets; young greasers wouldn't grow up hearing my name. I would be forgotten, and new heroes would take my place. The only one who would always remember would be Curly.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So this fucking nigger said to me, what's your problem brother? So I put my arm next to his and said, see that? I ain't your brother you fucking monkey…"

I leaned my head back against the brick wall of the exercise yard, thinking if this guy said "nigger" or "monkey" one more time I was going to pound his skull in. In the cooler there ain't greasers and soc's, there's 'honkeys' and 'spics' and 'niggers'. Everyone sticks to their own race, which meant getting stuck with this asshole from the Aryan Brotherhood.  
He had sought me out the second I set foot in the yard, just hours after arriving here. I had the impression he had been sent to try and recruit me.

"Yeah, you gotta watch for the niggers in here. They think they own the joint."

He gave me a sideways glance. I wondered why he and his brethren thought they were so much better than the blacks, we were all in the same fucking place.

"I got no problem with 'em" I said coolly.

"Not if you stick with us you won't. And us white brothers gotta stick together right?"

He held out his hand for me to shake. I gazed over the yard, the black gangs on the basketball court, the Hispanic gangs on the other side, the whites on our side. I knew how it worked here, you had to have guys to stand back you up. There was no room for heroes here.  
I crossed my arms over my chest and ignored his offered hand.

"I'll take my chances." I said.

Boys home, foster home, reform school, prison. Wherever you are, the first night is always the worst. The first night when you lay on your bed and stare at the ceiling and think of all the nights you will spend here. You lie there and understand that this is your life, this is real, and it's the only life you're going to have. You roll on your bed, unable to sleep, the prison a nightmare you can't wake up from.  
Living in a box, and watching TV, and standing in the concrete yard, and listening to the boy down the hallway crying because he's somebody's punk, and talking to guys who hate a man for the color of his skin, and knowing that this is it…  
…and it's for life, your life.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The intercom crackled to life as I leaned over the pool table to take my shot.

"Tim Shepard, you have a visitor."

I missed my shot and sunk the black. I've never been any good at pool, Curly always liked to play because it's the only thing he could ever beat me at.

"If only my aim had been so bad when I was holding that knife" I said to the guy I was playing.

He grinned at me. "Shoot we all got a story like that. If only my daddy's aim had been so bad I never woulda been here in the first place."

A guard escorted me down to the visitor's room, the doors opening and shutting as we went. Slamming and locking, slamming and locking. Three months until my trail, three months…and then this…

I came in and glanced around the room, seeing my brother as I had expected. He was seated in one of the plastic chairs, looking cool and remote, his gaze hard and unafraid on the other prisoners. He looked like he belonged.

"Hey."

"Tim" he looked up quickly as I came over, and for a second I saw behind his hard expression the child who had been abandoned by everyone. Cast adrift and left to fight alone. But then it was gone so quickly, if I didn't know him so well I'd think I'd never even seen it.

"How's it going?" I asked, taking a seat opposite him.

"Okay. Nice outfit." A hint of his old smirk crossed his face as he looked at the blue trousers and shirt I was wearing.

"Watch it, or they'll be adding beating your head in to my list of crimes."

"Yeah, they might give you a medal for that."

"How you been?"

"Okay. Hey I just saw that soc Will McIntyre on my way here."

"What happened?" I asked.

I couldn't protect him from in here. And if anything happened to Curly, I might as well have died that day at the hospital.

"Nothing really, he just said he heard you was in jail, said you was gonna get the chair and all. He's a fucking weird guy that one. He's like a greaser in soc clothing."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." I remembered the day him and his buddies had jumped me. I had seen myself in him then, like I had seen myself in Dallas.

"He kind of reminds me of you, no offence or nothing."

"But without the tuff clothes" I said, indicating the prison issue shirt.

He grinned and ducked his head, then looked up, suddenly serious.

"I know you did that for me" he said, so softly I could barely hear him.

I looked at the guilt and the gratitude in his eyes, feeling sick. I had never deserved how much love he had for me. I had never even wanted it.

"Don't flatter yourself kid. I did it 'cause ain't no fucking cop gonna get the credit for taking me down."

Again I saw emotion skitter across his face before he hid it, relief, doubt, disappointment.

"How'd they know where you were?"

"I dunno, an undercover must have followed me."

"But how would they…"

"So, where you been staying?"

"At Wade's house, he said I could stay with him until you got out."

"Okay there?" I asked him, surprised at the relief that filled me. Relief that Curly was okay, he had somewhere to go, someone looking out for him. Surprised to find just how much I cared.

"Yep, his mom cooks the best dinners you ever saw." Then he grinned slyly and added. "Better than anything you seen the last few days at least, I'll bet."

"No doubt" I said , sitting back in my chair, just too glad and proud to be angry with him. He had so much fight in him, so much defiance in the face all the knocks that life had given him.

"Your picture was in the paper the other day, you look like a fucking poser too, smiling at the camera and shit. They think you're the baddest hood that ever lived, those newspaper people." He laughed, pride and fear in his eyes.

"How's the boys?"

"Aww hell, Wade can't keep 'em in line. You better get back Tim, it's going to shit without you."

Like I had known it would. Nothing without me, not even a gang on the street to carry my name.

"My lawyers gonna go for self defense" I told him. "I might get off."

As I said it I felt that desperate hope inside, the hope that it wasn't all over, I might yet have a second chance to live this life.

"You reckon?" The same hope was on Curly's face, flooding it. "Damn, I want that so fucking much."

He suddenly clenched his jaw and swallowed hard.

"Hey, listen" I said, feeling my heart twist as I looked at him. "It'll be okay, I got a good lawyer and all."

No need to tell him my lawyer was a kid, and a greaser.

He nodded took a deep breath. I never should have let him need me so much, I should have made him stand alone from the start. Then I never could have hurt him so much as I had.

"Times up Shepard" a guard called out from behind me.

I stood up and looked down at my brother, guilt running through me.

"I'm sorry" I told him. "I never wanted it to be like this."

* * *

A/N: Please keep in mind that while I do make an effort to have everything accurate to the U.S in the 1960's, it is not always possible to find the information. In that instance I just go on the assumption that the U.S prison and legal system works in a similar way to here in New Zealand where I live.  
So bear with me on any inaccuracies, thanks. 

Thanks to all reviewers, a few replies…

NittanyLizard: I'm so glad you liked the detective. I was planning on writing the "police beat down" interrogation scene, but then that detective suddenly came to mind, and he seemed like a good character so I put him in instead.

Just Playin: It's not that his case isn't important, but seeing as he is a greaser who killed a soc he wouldn't get good publicity for the lawyer. Also, given the circumstances, it would be seen as a hard case to win. As far as I know, people using legal aid can't just ring up any law firm they want. But I could be wrong, see A/N above!

Vripter: Well you'll have to wait and find out what happens…I'm mean huh!

Reviwer: Hope you liked seeing Curly back in this chapter. Sorry, not saying what the next story will be about just yet.

Tensleep: Wow, almost lovable! I guess I have probably taken a more generous interpretation of the Shepards then most people, but even the most hardcore gang members are still human after all, they still have thoughts, feelings, family they love, etc. And I wanted to show a different side to Curly, most (not all) fic's on here that he appears in give him all the personality of toxic waste. I realize that is because Ponyboy describes him as "not very bright", however he also says he's "tough, cool and hard as nails" so I'm keeping that in mind too when writing him.

Skateboard101: Hey don't apologize, I love getting reviews! Well I guess he is trying to act tough, but finding it hard because as you say he is sad.

Wish-upon-a-star: Thanks, glad your enjoying it. As for what will happen to Tim, you'll find out! I won't put the summary of the next story up, as I'm still deciding on a few things.

Alicia: I do write my own stories, but wrote and posted this partly out of interest to see what people would think of my writing. I don't show my stories to people I actually know because it's not like they would tell me to my face "that sucks" and I wanted some honest feedback. So that's really nice to hear, thanks.

Kelly90: Thanks, I'm always relieved when reviewers say that! Seeing as I'm writing it from Tim's POV it's a lot easier to show his emotions etc, but I have to make sure I don't get carried away with it either.

CloudyDay: I'm glad you like the detail, I like writing it but sometimes wonder if I put too much in.


	12. Judgement Day

5 November 1966

"All set for your big day?" my lawyer asked, coming into the conference room and sliding into a seat opposite me.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"I've got some news for you, I've tracked down a witness."

"What do you mean, apart from the Curtis boys?"

"Yeah, a cleaner in one of the buildings. She looked out the window and saw everything. She's been too scared to come forward."

"So why did she now?"

"I have my means of finding people" he said, grinning lazily. "That's good for us, she saw them surround you. Bad for us, she saw you knife that kid. But it'll help on the self defense angle at least…" he trailed off and started rummaging in his briefcase. He always seemed to be distracted, always thinking about something else, looking for the next big thing.

"Fuck it" I snarled, "is this shit gonna help or not? It ain't you that's gonna do the time, quit playing it like a fucking game!"

He shrugged, looking as calm as ever. "You'll just have to trust me to do my job Tim. Now what size are you?"

"What are you on about now?"

"I'll bring you in a suit to wear to court, don't you go in front of that jury looking like a hood. They'll look at you and see the nightmare that could have killed their son or brother. And the prosecution is gonna make little Robert Casey out like he was on his way to church choir when you knifed him, you get what I'm saying."

"I've got a suit, I'll get my brother to bring it in for me."

"Okay, I'll come and see you again before then if anything new happens."

My lawyer stood and put his jacket on. "You have a chance Tim, that's all. But that's all you can hope for in life anyway."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I followed the guard down to the visitor's room, hoping Curly had remembered to bring the suit like I'd asked him. I went in and looked around, not seeing him.

"Tim" a girl spoke from behind me.

I turned quickly. "Julia."

"Hey," she smiled at me, smoothing her skirt over her knees nervously. She looked out of place, like she always had when she was next to me.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded, taking a seat next to her.

"You're as charming as ever. I see they haven't reformed you too much."

"Ain't a prison built that can reform me sweetheart. Now what do you want?"

The smile touched her lips again, sad this time. "Are you ever sorry for anything Tim?"

I thought of the first time Curly had come to visit me here, I thought of Robert Casey's laughing image that chased me through my dreams each night. I was sorry for so much shit, she couldn't imagine.

"Yeah, sorry I ever got caught."

"You're always…" she broke off and shook her head. "There's not much in this world you care about is there?"

"What do you want? I don't have time for this."

She shivered and folded her arms across her chest.

"It's so cold in here."

"Yeah, well they ain't too concerned with comfort."

I was used to the cold by now, I didn't feel it anymore. I guess you can get used to anything eventually.

"Your lawyer came to see me, Tony Clark, that's his name right?"

"What the fuck did he want?"

"He wants me to testify for you."

"He must be scrapping the fucking bottom if he's got you up to defend me, what are you gonna say? He cheated on me, burn the fucker?"

"Stuff you Tim." She stared at me, a mix of anger and regret in her expression. "You know I thought you might be better than what everyone said about you. But you only wanted what you could get, didn't you?"

I didn't say answer. It hadn't been like that, but she had wanted so much. She wanted dinner and dances and movies and flowers, she wanted to talk, she wanted a relationship. She had wanted more than I had to give.

"Julia, come on. Give me a fucking break, I'm going on trial for murder next week, I ain't gonna justify myself to you too."

"I know." She sucked a hard breath, reminding me of Curly when he was trying to cover his emotions. "I always knew what you were like, I'm not stupid. I was just stupid enough to think you actually cared about me."

"To hell with this, you say whatever the fuck you want up there okay, I don't give a shit!" I got up and made for the door.

"Tim, hold on, wait" she grabbed my arm. "Don't be so…don't be so like yourself okay? You always were a cold bastard. Your lawyer thinks I might be able to help your case."

"Yeah, how's that?" I sat back down warily, prepared to make a run if she started up on anymore emotional shit.

"I can't talk to you about it, he said not to, in case the jury thinks you told me what to say."

"Hell, what are you talking about?"

"I can't say. I just wanted to tell you that, in case maybe you were getting…I dunno, scared or something." She laughed a little. "Pretty stupid I know, guess I forgot who we're talking about here."

What could she possibly know, about anything?

"I gotta go okay, I've got to catch the bus back."

She stood up then leaned over and kissed me hard on the lips, pushing herself into me, her arms round my shoulders. An instant later she pulled sharply away, straightened and stared down at me, her eyes bright with tears.

"I really loved you, you fucking asshole. You know that?"

9 November 1966

I sat beside Curly in the visitor's room, waiting for him to say something. I hadn't realized how much I relied on him to fill the silence. I didn't seem to have a lot to say anymore, not much changes in here.

"What's up kid?" I said eventually. "Wade's mom still keeping you fed?"

He seemed to have gotten taller since I'd been in here, but it could just be that I always thought of him as more of a kid than he really was.

"Yeah."

"Yeah, what else is new?"

"What's new? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You're in here still ain't you?"

"Life goes on without me though don't it?"

"Yeah, but it ain't the same. You know I thought I wouldn't be able to take it if you went inside for this. But I can."  
His voice was flat and empty. "I still get up everyday, and go and hang out, and fight, and hit on girls. So I guess that means I can take it, if I can still keep going."

He tilted his head back and gazed at the far wall, his face expressionless. But this time I couldn't see anything behind it, no fear, no love, no hope. I had always wanted him to grow up, but not like this.

He came to see me every week, without fail. Wade and the other boys came too, even the Curtis boys came a couple of times. I felt more and more distant from them each time they came, the gangs and rumbles and raids and parties seemed like something that had happened a lifetime ago. In a few years time, seeing them would only remind me of the person I used to be.

"You should see what the papers are writing about you Tim, they want you to burn for this. Sometimes I just wish we could go back and start over again."

_they want you to burn _I saw my life before my eyes, like only a drowning man was supposed to.A father who looked at me with death in his eyes, a mother I couldn't save, a girl with a broken heart, a gang without a leader, and a brother who would drown with me if he didn't learn to stand alone. That was what I would leave behind in the world.

"It'll be…"

"Don't tell me it'll be okay."

"Curly," I paused and looked at him, wanting to run a mile rather than see the truth, that no one would ever hurt him as much as I had. "I just want you to be okay, that's all I ever wanted."

"I know" he said, "but all I ever wanted was to be just like you."

10 November 1966

I swaggered into court dressed for a funeral, black pants, black shirt, black jacket. I had worn my suit twice before, both times to funerals, and this trial could be as good as a funeral for me too. There was a word for this situation, but I couldn't think what it was. My lawyer slid into the seat beside.

"Morning Tim" he said, looking tense for the first time.

"What the fucks going on?" I hissed under my breath to him. "What does Julia know about any of this?"

"All rise" someone announced.

Tony nudged me and I stood with him as the judge entered. I glanced back over my shoulder to see who was in the gallery. Curly, of course, slumped back in the seat with a bored smirk on his face. A few of the boys beside him, hair slicked back, arms folded, glaring at everyone in the room, none of them standing for the judge. There was a group of people I didn't recognize, well dressed and standing straight. Robert Casey's family no doubt.

I watched Tony shuffling papers and writing himself little notes while the jury was sworn in and proceedings got under way. I knew I should be paying a little more attention to the event that was going to decide my future, but the truth is that for the most part trials are just plain boring.

Lyle Johnson was how I had expected my own lawyer would look, grey haired, full of presence, his face set in hard anger as he paced before the jury, making his opening statement.

"Don't let him fool you, just because he was cunning enough to clean himself up and put on a suit. That young man you see there is a killer, stone cold…"

The jury, as directed, swung their gazes to me. I gave them a grin, and Tony drove his elbow into my ribs.

"He smiles!" Lyle Johnson's voice raised a couple of notes. "He sits and smiles, knowing he sent a young boy to his grave! Make no mistake about the sort of person you see, he can't clean himself up enough to hide what's inside, whats underneath that suit."

He stood over the jury, and they seemed transfixed by him. I wondered how the hell Tony was going to compete with this.

"No doubt you will be told what a sad, sad life young Tim here has had, how he saw his parents killed, how he spent years in foster care. But he still had a choice, like I do, like you do, like we all do because we have minds and free wills. The choice he made was to be a gang member; the choice he made was to walk our streets armed with weapons. And in August this year he made the choice to take a boys life, and for that he deserves the harshest penalty the law can impose…"

"He's going for the kill ain't he" I quipped to Tony.

"Ssshhh" he hissed, as riveted by Lyle Johnson as the jury was. Shit the guy was probably his goddamn hero. I wished Curly was sitting up next to me, he would have appreciated the joke.

Lyle Johnson finally ran out of deeds to accuse me of, and Tony got up.

"Well," he said conversationally, leaning against a bench in front of the jury. "That was impressive wasn't it? Like something straight out of the movies, right folks? My client is guilty of most of the things Lyle Johnson accuses him of. He's guilty of being a hood that is true. A gang member, that is also true."

A gang member? The fucking president no less, I would have to remind my lawyer of a few goddamn facts.

"In fact" he continued, leaning in toward the jury and dropping his voice slightly. "Don't tell him I said so, but I think he's guilty of being an arrogant, hard headed son of a bitch too."

I heard the boys laughing back in the gallery, and some of the jury members smiled. In a different sort of way, he seemed to have as much of a hold on them as Lyle Johnson had.

"However, we are not here to judge Tim on how he dresses, who his friends are, and what he does in his spare time. We are here to decide whether or not he is responsible for the murder of Robert Casey. And that is the one thing he is not guilty of."

* * *

A/N: Sorry this is a bit delayed, I was really stuck on this chapter. As you can see it is mostly setting things up for the next chapter, but I hope I haven't bored you too much. Thanks for reading. 

Replies to reviewers:

Starbryte234: Glad you liked him smiling at the cameras, it seemed to me like the sort of thing he would do!

Tensleep: Thanks, I'm glad you liked that part because it was a lot of fun to write too. Funnily enough I got the idea for his lawyer while watching "Hoodlum" where Andy Garcia plays a cool 1930's gangster, and somehow the lawyer came from that.

NittanyLizard: Thanks, good to hear it sounded realistic. I'm glad you liked the prison scenes too, I tried to give an impression of what it was like without going into it too much as I'm not so interested in that side of it.

Aslan: Your review really had me intrigued; I hope you tell me if you were right after the story is finished…I would love to know!

NalunaSolna: I'm glad you got the 'first night' scene, as I was meaning it to apply to both their lives, as you said. Thanks :)

EquestrainKEB: Thanks good to hear you're enjoying it.

Snowgurl54: Yeah I couldn't leave Curly out of it! I'm glad you like reading about him, I like writing him.

Kate: Thanks for your review. Those are my thoughts on it too, just because Tim (and guys like him) don't show their feelings doesn't mean they don't have any. I'm glad you like it, thanks again.

Reviewer: Yeah I guess Tim had to apologize eventually. That was my favorite part of the chapter actually, so I'm glad you liked it.

Sungurl: Okay, since you asked!

Star141: Hope you enjoy this chapter too, sorry it's a bit delayed.

Jesse: I know it's frustrating waiting, I read stories on here too so I know the feeling, but I do have a life apart from writing about Tim and Curly :)

Sarah121: Glad you liked that chapter, hope you liked seeing Curly back in this one.

Greendayrocks: No, haven't forgotten! Sorry for the wait, this chapter was a hard one to write.


	13. Evidence

The courtroom was silent as Tony took his seat beside me again and poured himself a glass of water from the jug in front of us.

"I oughta be breaking that glass over your fucking head" I said under my breath to him.

He gave me a weary glance. "You're hanging yourself up here; you don't own this court like you own your goddamn streets. Loose the attitude fast."

I felt my fingers clenching and shoved my hands down by my side. All my life I had lived in a world where the attitude you presented was everything. Layer by layer you covered everything you ever felt, until someone could cut to the bone and still not see what was inside. Sometimes I wondered if anything was left inside anyway.

"The prosecution calls William McIntyre."

Will strolled up to the stand and took his place, swore on the bible with a hard, clear voice, and Lyle Johnson got up to begin the questioning.

"William, can you tell us what happened on the day Robert Casey died?"

"Robert, David, Frank and I were driving down Hyde Street and we saw Tim walking by" Will state without infliction. "So I stopped…"

Lyle interrupted him. "Clarify for the courtroom, who is Tim?"

"Tim Shepard, him" and Will pointed, his eyes meeting mine, a gleam of triumph in them.

"Why did you stop?"

"To talk to him. We got out the car and were talking, and that's when he stabbed Robert."

He sure had a pretty generous interpretation of the situation, I guess the kid was gonna make a great politician some day. Tony scrawled something on his notepad and shoved it toward me.

_I can't wait to cross examine the little shit_

_Let me do it_ I wrote back.

He grinned, and I took a breath and tried to relax. My side would be heard too, I had to believe that. But would they even care what my side was, that was the real question.

"Then what?" Lyle was asking.

"Then, ahh, I hit Shepard, to get him off. Then we got back in the car and I took Robert to the hospital."

For all the details he had left out, it was still the truth. However many shades of grey I tried to color it with, I had killed a boy.

Tony got up for the cross examination. "So, William" he began, leaning against the jury bench with his arms folded. "Are you a friend of Mr. Shepard?"

"No, he's a hood."

"What makes him a hood?"

"What?" Will snapped, his composure slipping slightly, "he lives on the East side, he has a gang, he breaks the law, of course he's a hood!" The question appeared to have annoyed him no end.

"So why were you stopping to talk to a person your so scared of?"

"Scared?" Will was practically jumping out of his skin by now. "I'm not scared of him. He's nothing, he's just low born trash."

Tony still looked relaxed, in direct contrast to Will. I wondered if Curly and the boys were finding this amusing and turned to take a look. Wade was grinning, but Curly's face was dark and stormy. He had his hands balled into fists and was staring at Will with cold rage.

"You sure know a lot about Tim for not being friends with him" Tony said breezily. "Have you met before?"

"We had a fight once" Will said with forced sounding calmness, and I saw pride in the lift of his chin as he said it.

"Oh, what happened?"

"He broke my jaw."

"He did huh?" Tony said, shaking his head sadly. "That's too bad. How come you stopped to talk to someone who'd beaten you in a fight?"

"He didn't beat me" Will said testily, his jaw clenched angrily. "And I stopped so we could talk and work things out."

If I ever got out of here, maybe I should arrange for me and Will to get a couple of baseball bats and meet Tony down a dark alley sometime.

"You and your three friends all got out the car to talk to Tim, who you have a score to settle with?"

"Yes."

"After Robert got hurt, you took him to the hospital, correct?"

"Yes."

"What time?"

"I wasn't looking at my watch."

Tony walked back over to the dock and picked a sheet of paper out of his briefcase.

"Hospital admission form" he said, holding it up to show Will. "Time of admission 6.15pm. Why didn't you take him straight to the hospital?"

"I did."

"Yet we have three witnesses who put the time of the incident at approximately 5.30pm. Now from Hyde Street to the hospital is a fifteen minute drive, wouldn't you say?"

"I had to drop David and Frank at their houses first."

"Your friend's bleeding to death, and you take a detour?"

Will shifted on his feet and glanced over at Lyle like he was gonna help him.

"I didn't think it was that bad."

"You didn't think he was hurt badly enough to require hospital treatment?"

"Not at first."

"What changed your mind?"

"He started bleeding worse."

The police had been at my house so fast, I had always assumed Robert had gone straight to the hospital. I thought of the time he had sat bleeding in the car, was that the time that had made all the difference in both our lives?

"No further questions."

Will left the stand looking slightly less confident, and the judge called for recess.

A guard escorted me back to the holding cells, where I had to spend my time if I wasn't in the courtroom. For once I didn't mind going back to a cell, it was a relief to only have brick walls to look at. Nothing that could look back at me.

"That kid McIntrye" the guard said as he locked the door behind me, "His fathers running for mayor, did you know that?"

"Nah" I said. "But I sure won't vote for the fucker, I can tell ya that."

I lit up a cigarette, and the guard laughed. "You sure can pick enemies Shepard."

I guess I have always been better at making enemies that at making friends. I only ever wanted to be respected, being liked never came into it. I wanted to be able to walk down the street and hold my head up high.  
My pride was the only thing I had that no one could ever take away.

Back from recess I tried to concentrate on the forensic scientist explaining Roberts's injuries, pointing to an enlarged color photo of his wounds as he spoke.

"…so as you can see the knife entered the chest area under the breast bone…"

I looked up at the photo mounted at the front of the courtroom. I have seen live people with worse looking injuries, I guess it didn't look so bad because they had cleaned off all the blood for the photo. There was just a narrow, dark gash in his chest, but despite that looking at it made me feel queasy.

I kept my head straight forward but slid my gaze off to the side of the room, I couldn't be seen to be unable to look at my own crime. But sometimes your own past is something you want to turn away from, to pretend you were never the sort of person who could look a boy in the eyes and slide a knife into his body.

XXXXXXXXXX

Day two of the trial, the scientist back on the stand, this time being questioned by Tony. He was explaining the clotting action of the blood, and I hoped the jury was paying more attention than I was.

I turned to see who was in court today; saw Curly sitting at the back with Wade. Wade was leaning over saying something in his ear, but Curly looked to be ignoring him. He was just staring at the photos mounted up on the board, his face hard and focused, pale. Curly has never been an angel, he's jumped people, mugged people, fought with knives and chains, he's seen and caused his fair share of pain. But he stared at Roberts's photo with a sick expression that I wondered about.

"Would you expect to see a wound suddenly begin to bleed more profusely?" Tony asked the scientist.

"No, as the blood clots the flow will decrease. However there are factors that can affect this, for instance if an artery has been severed."

"Was that the case in this instance?"

"Yes, the second cut had the same entry point but went deeper than the first."

"The second cut?" Tony asked, the exact same question that was in my mind.

_the second cut _I remembered my motion, the quick cut. In and out. There had been no second time, that crime wasn't mine, and I fought the urge to yell that out. I had to talk to Tony, he had to understand that, he had to make the jury understand.

"In your opinion, would the first cut have been severe enough to cause the death of Robert Casey?"

"No, with medical treatment it was a survivable injury."

I suddenly felt dizzy and lightheaded, the guilt that slid of me a living thing I could feel, heavier than I had even known. Every morning you wake up and swallow the cold shame of knowing you took a life, and it sits in your stomach like a brick.

Recess was called, and I could hardly wait to get out of there.

"I gotta talk to you" I hissed to Tony as we stood. He nodded and followed me down to the cells.

I stood against the wall staring at Tony, too wound up to sit down, waiting for the guard to leave.

"Why don't you just tell me what the hells going on? What the fuck are they talking about, the second cut? I never did that, no one ain't gonna pin their fucking crime on me, I didn't kill that kid!"

I clenched my fists and paced the cell, adrenalin surging through me, rage beating in my chest.

"Just calm down a minute" Tony said, moving so that the table was between us. "I know you only cut him one time, you told me that remember. There's more to this than you know Tim. That kid McIntrye should be on trial, not you."

"What?" I stopped. "What does Will got to do with it?"

Tony glanced at his watch. "We gotta head back in a minute. William McIntrye is anything but the pillar of society his parents think he should be. Did you know he's been doing business with the Brumly boys?"

"What?" I sat down and pulled out my cigarettes, needing to do something with my hands. "That's gotta be bullshit, I would have known about something like that."

Tony took a seat too, obviously feeling assured that I wasn't about to clock him in the jaw. He really makes too many assumptions that guy.

"Even you don't know everything Tim. The Brumly boys turf is a long way from your own. But not far enough for their liking, you've been making yourself a few enemies on their side."

That wasn't news, I've always had enemies on all sides of town. I guess it's always been a bit of a matter of pride to me, how many enemies I have. If I wasn't stepping on anyone's toes, then I wasn't claiming enough for myself.

"The Brumly boys have always controlled most of the dope supply coming into Tulsa. Until you started bring your stuff up from the South. I don't know who your connections are, but what you were getting was a whole lot better than anything they could get. They took a bit hit from that, financial wise as well as control."

I nodded impatiently. "I know I took the control back off them, why the fuck else do you think I did it. It wasn't the money."

For an instant, I'd forgotten who I was talking too. He wasn't a lawyer, he wasn't a rich soc', he was just a guy who'd been where I'd been, understood the way the streets worked, and now could save my life.

"Hey" I asked, snapping back to reality. "How do you know all this?"

"I told you I grew up in their turf. I was also best friends with the presidents little brother. The president back then I mean, he's serving time now, been inside for the last seven years. But I still got a few connections of my own."

He gave me a little smile, the statement made without pride or bravado, just a fact.

"So, what's all this got to do with Robert?" I asked him, I didn't care that this was all stuff I should know myself, had always prided myself on knowing everything that went on. I just wanted him to tell me, I just wanted to hear it wasn't my hands that took a boys life, that I wouldn't sit the rest of my own life in a cell.

Tony leaned forward. "The Brumly boys knew one way to take back the money and the streets, heroin. That's what they wanted to bring in."

Heroin; just the word could turn me cold. I saw enough of it in the first ten years of my life to haunt me for the rest of it. If anyone on my turf dared sell the stuff, they knew I'd deal to them harshly.

"But they needed someone with money to bring in the initial supply, the set up. That's where William came in. He had all the money he could ever want, but what he really wanted was what you want Tim, power, control, respect. He found that money could buy him that, when it came to the Brumly boys."

"So get to the point" I told him, hearing the footsteps of the guard coming down the corridor outside, coming to take me back up to the courtroom.

"Robert was just a minor player, he was the pick up and drop off boy. But he got scared, he wanted out. You know how that goes."

I knew alright, when the stakes were that high. You don't get out, not with your life. Another reason I had always stuck to dope and nothing harder. With smack and coke the penalties are so much higher, people get scared, they get paranoid. In a bust people can fold the whole way down the line, right to the man at the top. No one would be allowed to walk away with knowledge of an operation like that.

"When you stabbed the boy, I think William saw the perfect opportunity to get rid of his problem, and put the crime on your shoulders. He dropped off the other two boys, put the knife in again, and took Robert to hospital. That's three witnesses who saw you stab him, none who saw him. Robert never regained consciousness at the hospital; he couldn't tell anyone what really happened."

"You think, or you know?"

"I put the pieces together, that's all. I can't prove William did it, but I can prove he might have. That's all I need to do Tim, the jury can't convict you if they have any reason at all to believe you could be innocent."

"Aww shit you dumb fuck you really think that's gonna work?" Suddenly all the tension was flooding me, coursing through me in the only emotion I have ever known how to express – anger.

"You so fucking smart you think you know all that, and then you think the jury gonna believe the worst of some fucking rich boy, think I ain't such a bad guy after all…"

I got up again and walked the short length of the room; I turned and slammed my fist into the unyielding brick wall, needing to feel something real. The pain shot up through my knuckles, bringing blood, bringing the satisfying ache of fighting something.

The door unlocked and the guard came in casually, then suddenly tensed.

"Everything alright?" he asked sharply, touching the gun at his hip.

"Everything's fine" Tony said crisply, back to the calm, slick image he presented when he wasn't talking about the gangs he'd grown up with.

He followed us as the guard escorted me out.

"Tim" he said to my back. "Wait until it's our turn in court. Wait for me to present the defense."

I heard the line of eagerness running through his voice, and his confidence caught me. And I walked the corridor back to the court with that knowledge beating in my every step, I didn't kill him, I didn't kill him.

XXXXXXXXXX

A week of being on trial. To say it like that it doesn't sound like a long time, but that doesn't describe the hours spent sitting in the dock. The hours of listening to evidence, of looking at photos, of hearing my name dragged through the mud. A week of trying to keep a smile on my face for the cameras, sitting in the holding cells smoking during endless recesses.

A week of desperation and frustration growing inside, that no one would ever believe or understand the truth, as endless testimony was given without anything that would absolve me in the eyes of the jury. And a parade of strangers, allies and enemies giving evidence.

The first day of the defense began with Darrel Curtis on the stand, facing the court with the tough, calm confidence he seemed to carry inside himself.

"As soon as I came round the corner I could see there was a fight going on" he told the court. "I didn't know it was Tim at first, I could just see someone on the ground and all the soc's, the other boys I mean, around him kicking him…"

I felt myself cringing. Fucking Darry, did that guy always have to be so honest? Did he really have to say I was on the ground, curled around myself waiting to die?

"I thought they were going to kill him…"

And my rep fell a little, and the hope for my life rose a little. And it seemed like a trade I could live with.

There was Tony's mystery witness, the cleaning lady from one of the buildings. She had grey curls and twisted her hands nervously as she spoke.

"All the boys ran when the second car came up" she said.

"The boy who had been stabbed, did he run too?"

"Yes he ran to the car, and they all got in."

"Robert Casey ran" Tony said, looking at the jury meaningfully. "Who was supposedly mortally wounded?"

"Objection!" yelled Lyle Johnson, and a woman down the back screamed "you're a liar", and the judge brought his hammer down.

And I wondered how the dry, formal rituals of the court could have any relevance to the violent chaos of the streets that they passed judgment on, a week spent judging an event that happened in the blink of an eye, where there had only been time for reaction, not thought.

And on the fourth day, there was Julia. I tried to catch her eye as she stood straight in a blue shirt and grey skirt, but her gaze deliberately avoided mine.

She looked nervous and Tony was kind to her, leading her through gentle questioning for several minutes before getting to the point. Anticipation built up inside me, I couldn't imagine what her involvement could be with any of this.

"William came to see you the night Robert got injured, is that right?"

"Yeah, we saw each other sometimes. He wasn't my boyfriend, although he wanted to be."

"What did he say to you?"

"He had blood on his hands and his clothes. I asked him what had happened and he told me he'd had a fight with Tim Shepard, and Robert had been stabbed."

"Did he tell you who stabbed Robert?"

"He said Tim did. Then he said, 'their both gonna get what they deserve.'"

Tony stayed silent for a moment, I guess giving the jury time to consider what Will had said. It seemed pretty clear to me what he had meant, Tony had been right all along. That asshole had set me up, knowing the police would believe him, knowing they wouldn't question any crime laid on my hands. Hell I hadn't questioned it myself; I had assumed I was the one who killed him too.  
Even I believed the worst of myself.

"What did you think of that statement?"

"Well, he hated Tim, he was jealous of him, and he was always complaining about Robert, although I did think they were friends. I thought he just meant that Robert would have to go to hospital, and Tim would get arrested."

"Why did he complain about Robert?"

"He would say that he was a coward, and that he scared too easy."

"Do you know of anything they were involved in that could have led to him considering Robert scared too easy?" Tony asked carefully, and I remembered him saying something about not being allowed to lead the witness.

Julia pursed her lips and abruptly swung her gaze to me, for a second she stilled and gave me a small, sad smile. There was a message in her eyes, and I could almost understand. It could have been was the thought that suddenly went through my mind. We could have been together, and that is the life I could have lived, but this is the one I chose.

I returned her smile, but although I had regrets of my own, that was not one of them. She had thought I was a person I never was, she had thought I would be the one who would make up for all that was missing, to press myself against her and fill all the gaps inside.

"There were rumors" Julia replied, being equally careful. "I heard they were doing business with a gang, the Brumly boys. I don't know what exactly, but I think Robert was getting scared."

"Did Robert say that to you?"

"Yeah, he said…" she paused and looked upwards, trying to remember. "He said that Will was doing some crazy stuff, and they were going to get caught. He said 'Will won't stop, and I can't stop because he won't let me.'"

"Did you ask him why he didn't just stop doing whatever it was they were doing?"

"He said Will had told him he would kill him if he did."

"No further questions."

The judge called a recess for lunch and I was taken down the cells again. There was a tray of food on the bed for me, but I wasn't hungry. I had hardly been able to eat all week. I put the tray on the floor and lit a cigarette, looked up at the sound of the cell door opening.

"Got a visitor Shepard" the guard said, standing in the door frame. "Keep it quick okay, I shouldn't be letting him down here."

He stepped aside and Curly came in and slumped back against the wall, waiting for the guard to leave, dressed in his usual outfit of worn jeans and a hooded sweatshirt.

"How's things?"

Curly fixed his dark eyes on mine, coldness in his expression.

"Tim, are you sure your lawyer knows what the fuck he's doing?" he asked sharply. There was a hardness and maturity to him that hadn't been there before I went in. He looked furious, at me most of all.

"Hey, come here" I told him.

He shoved himself off the wall and came and sat next to me on the narrow bed.

"Got any smokes? I gave my pack to that guard to bring me down to see you."

I handed him one and he lit up, for a minute things back to normal between us. I told him what to do, he obeyed, I gave him what I chose, took away what I chose.

"What does he think he's doing?" Curly asked again, his tone forceful. "He ain't even saying nothing about self defense, just going on about how long Will took to go to the hospital and how many times you stabbed him, no one gives a shit about that. And you fucking lied to me."

"Hey watch it" I said, my own anger rising at his tone. I raised my hand to smack him one, and he didn't even flinch, just knocked my arm away roughly.

"Don't you fucking hit me Tim! You told me you cut him one time, you said it was nothing, I believed you even if no one else did."

I suddenly understood. "Listen kid, I never lied to you. The second cut wasn't mine, it was Will."

He went still beside me, concentration on his face as I explained what Tony had told me, the angle he was now going for.

"Hell, that fucking dirty bastard" he hissed when I'd finished. "The low son of a bitch, he wanted you to take the fucking fall for his crime? And you been inside all this time, been on trial, for the shit he did."

I shrugged. "That really ain't the point Curly, what's done is done, that's the breaks. The point is I never killed nobody."

I felt the relief run through me as I said it.

"Yeah, you didn't" Curly suddenly relaxed and smiled, a soft, genuine smile that I hadn't seen on him for longer than I could remember.

"You know when I looked at the photo of that boy in the court, I just…" he paused, struggling to find the words. "I mean I was really proud that you killed a soc', I honestly was. But then when I saw the photo, saw what you done, I hated it. I didn't want you to be that person, that could do that to somebody."

"I know" I said. "I didn't either." Because if Curly could be brave enough to say exactly what he was feeling, maybe I could too.

"Hey, Tim" he said suddenly, looking across at me.

"What?"

"It'll be okay" he gave me a sly, teasing smile.

I laughed and cuffed him lightly over the head, which was the only way I could think of to show my love for him. It was a crazy world alright, where I could stab a boy without thinking and yet find it too hard to hug my little brother.

We sat in silence, smoking, shoulders nearly touching, and for a moment, all the things that really mattered in life seemed so simple.

XXXXXXXXXX

The last defense witness was called, David Wilson, who had been in the car with Will that day. Tony had told me his testimony would make or break the case, and I felt myself tensing up as Tony took him through the events of that day, leading up to the crucial point.

"Did you see Tim stab Robert?" he asked him, and I held my breath, leaning forward in my seat.

He nodded. "Yeah, I was standing right next to him."

"Can you describe what happened?"

"Tim stepped forward and grabbed him, he stabbed the knife into his chest, and then he pulled it back out."

"How many times did he stab him?"

"Once," David replied without hesitating.

I let my breath out as a murmur went through the courtroom, Lyle Johnson's face was dark, I turned and saw Curly smile. My life seemed like an open road ahead of me, a stretch of endless possibility. The walls fell away at that moment, the ceiling lifted. The chance to live again, with everything in the world that could be mine. All I had ever wanted.

XXXXXXXXXX

Tony came to see me down in the cells while the jury deliberated.

"Thought you could do with these" he said, tossing me a packet of cigarettes.

"Thanks."

"Your not home free yet remember, even if the jury finds you not guilty your still gonna do time for assault."

"I know. How long for that do you reckon?"

"Aww it'll be nothing. Take into account the circumstances, plus time already spent in custody, with parole you won't do more than nine months."

I grinned. "Nine months I can do. Be like a holiday."

Tony went to leave, and I realized something.

"Hey, you believed me, Curly wasn't the only one."

He looked back at me.

"When I told you I didn't hurt him enough to kill him, you believed me right?"

He smiled and put on a look of forced patience. "Like I've already told you, I grew up with gang members. If you say what you did wasn't enough to kill him, I believe you're qualified to know what you're talking about."

I smiled myself as he left. I guess I should have figured that out at the start, what better lawyer for a greaser to have than another greaser?

I sat and smoked cigarette after cigarette, now I could only wait. It was less than an hour before the guard came back to get me.

"Judgment day son" he said. "The verdicts in."

I felt my stomach churning as I walked back up, wondering if the jury would be able to put everything together like Tony had. He had laid it out in his summing up of the case, repeatedly hammering the fact that I had stabbed him once, and an "unknown assailant" had made the fatal cut.

I stood straight in the dock as the jury filed back in, none of them looking at me. But surely it had been enough; surely they understood I wasn't the killer even I had thought I was?

"On the charge of murder in the first degree, how do you find the defendant?"

"Not guilty."

"On the charge of manslaughter, how do you find the defendant?"

"Not guilty."

I had won, I had won this fight for my life, and hard, dark pride swelled inside myself. I was born to fight, born to win. Pretty much my entire gang had turned up at court that day, and I heard them yelling gleefully behind me, I bit the inside of my cheek to stop from smiling.

"On the charge of assault with a weapon, how do you find the defendant?"

"Guilty."

There were groans from the boys at that, but nothing could touch me. I had gone from facing the death penalty to looking at less than a year inside.

The judge banged his hammer and called for silence.

"Mr Shepard, you have been found guilty of assault with a weapon. You are to appear in court to be sentenced on 25th November, you are remanded in custody until then."

I stood still, my hands by my side, everything I had never believed possible had happened. Even for a hood, there could be justice, there could be escape.

Tony grabbed my shoulder and shook me excitedly. "You hear that, we won Tim, we won!" He sounded like he could hardly believe it himself.

The prison guard moved to my side and handcuffed me again, took my arm and led me from the court. I passed the boys and gave them a grin and nod, they answered with whoops and yells, I saw Wade hugging Curly round the shoulders, triumph on both their faces. I felt like I had won something for all of us that day.

And I saw Roberts family too, their faces bleak and uncomprehending. I felt sympathy for them, I truly did. Everything that never seemed possible had come true.

I was led outside, down the courthouse steps, back into the world that was mine again, into the jostle and noise of journalists, the flash of cameras, and the winter sun casting a cold, yellow light.

"Tim, wait up!" I heard Tony yell behind me.

The guard paused, and Tony pushed up on my other side.

"You're my claim to fame Tim, don't you know that?" he said, "don't you get on the front page without me, you arrogant bastard!"

And Tony grabbed my other arm, and the photographers surged forward eagerly. I could just imagine the headlines that would scream from the paper the following day "Hood Walks Free!" and I smiled for the cameras.  
I was born to be a hood.

* * *

So, that's it everyone! Surprised? I think some of you had already guessed the ending huh, thanks to my probably excessive foreshadowing, but I hope you enjoyed anyways. 

Hey sorry for the wait, but this chapter is insanely long and I didn't want to break it up. And then once it was finally ready, fanfic wouldn't let me log in for ages! Ugh, the frustration.

I just want to say a seriously big thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review throughout this story, all your reviews have been awesome!

I stuffed up a sequence early on in the story, and for a while didn't know how I was going to bring it about to this ending, but knowing there were people reading and enjoying it really kept me motivated to try and make it happen. I nearly changed the ending altogether actually, but I think I have managed to make it work (hopefully.)

So again, thanks heaps.

Replies to reviewers:

NittanyLizard: Thanks so much, you know after posting that chapter I decided I hated it and was going to take it down, but as I was about to I got your review and a few things you said made me reconsider. I have enjoyed all your reviews and often found them quite insightful, thanks a lot.

starbryte234: You have actually reviewed every chapter I think (or just about anyway) so just wanted to say thanks, it's really appreciated.

Tensleep: Glad you liked that chapter, I know what you mean about courtroom proceedings, I hate courtroom stuff in a story so don't know what the hell I was thinking writing a story that involved a trial!

Flipwise: Hey that's okay, nice to see your still reading.

FoxFyre33: Thanks for your comment about the lawyer, I find it pretty hard to write a lawyer without being totally cliché, so I'm really glad you think he had personality and was realistic.

Locket the lookout: Thanks, that scene was hard to write because what Tim was thinking was so different to what he actually said. But hey I couldn't have him suddenly go all soft just because she's a girl, it annoys me when stories do that.

Reviewer: I'm glad you liked that chapter, I was a bit doubtful about it myself so good to hear you enjoyed it.

Trine: The courtroom stuff has been extremely abbreviated, because as you say it is not really too interesting. It is really hard to write so it's great to hear you think its working. I hope you liked the ending too.

Snowgurl54: Aww I felt so guilty when I got your review because I only had the chapter half written and was nowhere near ready to post. Sorry for the wait, but this chapter is really long so I hope that makes up for it!

Outsider08: Thanks for reviewing, hope you like the outcome.

Sungurl: Sorry, but I guess you can see from the length of this chapter why I took a while to update. Hope you enjoyed the story.

anonymous: Hope all the references to 'greasers' and 'socs' still made sense then! Yeah I like to leave the readers a little to guess at, I don't like stories that tell you every single either.

jesse: Here's the update, hope you enjoy it!

Marti: Thanks so much, I'm really glad that you say you can picture it. That's really cool to hear. Sorry to keep you in suspense!

TheCruiser9: Thanks, hope you like the ending. You didn't really think I would kill Tim did you? ;)

Chocochippie: Thanks and sorry (I'm getting repetitive here huh!) Don't you ever just wish the house would clean itself and the boss would pay you for not going to work? Oh if you're still at school, this is what you've got to look forward to!

Hahukum Konn: Hope you don't mind the heavy abbreviation of the courtroom drama in this chapter, but if I wrote it in full it would bore me to death. Tim's his own worst enemy I know, he just likes all the attention.


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